


Tapestry of Fate

by AdenaWolf



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: (Very mild), Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Brief Mention of Disordered Eating, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Selectively Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), Sign Language, zelink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 93,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25778869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdenaWolf/pseuds/AdenaWolf
Summary: "A single thread in a tapestry, though its colour brightly shines, can never see its purpose in the pattern of the grand design..."For millennia, the Hero of Legend and Princess of Destiny have been bound together by fate. It's simple math, then, that putting them together as soon as possible will increase the odds of victory. Zelda doesn't care: it doesn't matter if this "Hero" will help her unlock her powers, she doesn't want him in her life! Especially not forever!The Zelink Arranged Marriage AU we all need.
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 79
Kudos: 260
Collections: SakurAlpha's Fic Rec of Pure how did you create this you amazing bean





	1. Entangled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To make tangled; to twist, interlace, or mix up in such a manner that a separation cannot easily be made.

She’s 9 when the lessons start.

Father tells her at breakfast that her schedule is changing—that she’ll be learning something new. Something for the future.

Zelda tunes out the rest of her father’s speech, initial excitement fizzing down to dread. It’s really too early, she thinks, to talk about awakening her dormant powers. Whatever new prayer or ritual her father and the priests have come up with has no evidence to back its success —and Zelda doesn’t trust unproven methods. 

She’s young, not stupid

Nevertheless, she is the princess, so she fixes her face into a polite expression of interest (she doesn’t think Father is fooled) and finishes her breakfast.

It’s a considerable surprise to find neither Teacher nor one of the castle priests in her classroom. Instead, it’s a woman she doesn’t recognize, dressed too nicely to be a maid and writing on the blackboard. Zelda doesn’t think herself quiet (Father says she takes after her mother that way) but the mystery woman doesn’t turn around when Zelda enters. She doesn’t turn around when Zelda takes a seat. Or when she coughs (daintily, as is expected of a princess) to make her presence known.

The woman turns around while Zelda is trying to decide how to best get her attention while not being rude, and if she’s surprised to see Zelda sitting there, she doesn’t show it.

Instead, she makes a series of hand motions Zelda doesn’t recognize.

When Zelda doesn’t respond, the woman makes the same motions again, only much slower.

In response, Zelda waves.

The woman smiles patiently and points to the board.

_'Good Morning Princess. Are you ready to learn_?' 

Underneath the words are drawings of the movements the woman had been making.

Zelda’s cheeks warm as she makes the connection. She nods tentatively.

It doesn’t take long for the excitement of learning something new to bloom. She pours herself into her studies with all the fervour of a starved man at a feast.

By her 12th birthday, Zelda is near fluent in Hylian Sign.

* * *

He’s 11 when he hears the song.

He’s playing with Aryll while their father scouts the area with some other knights. He’s meant to stay put, he’d promised his father he’d follow orders and stay at the camp.

But the song... the song is calling to him. He knows it, can feel his soul repeat the melody, his feet itch to give in to the pull.

It’s hard, but Link is a Big Brother, and song or no song Aryll is only 4. She doesn’t know the other knights, and he doesn’t trust them to take care of her properly.

So, Link ignores the song, willing it to the back of his mind until Father returns to camp.

He roots himself to his father’s side, running speed drills with practiced ease, even as the pull grows stronger.

He absently eats his dinner (“Goddesses Ralon, how does such a small boy eat that much!”) as the music crescendos in his ears.

...

When the song abruptly stops midway through the night, Link jolts upright, clawing at his heart as if making sure it’s still there. He feels like he’s missing a piece of his soul, and he has to stuff his fist in his mouth to muffle the sudden sobs. (The other last-stage squires constantly call him babyish or weak, and he won’t give them another reason to bully him)

As if in response to his sorrow, a soft voice flitters through his mind. It’s calming, and it gently soothes the pain in Link’s heart.

“ _Come_ .” it says, “ _Come and find me_ “

Sneaking out of the camp is easy, Link finds. He lets the voice guide him, though he briefly questions how it knows the path of the watch. (He never thinks to be scared or suspicious, he trusts this mysterious voice) 

The voice is like music all to itself, and Link finds that following it is as natural as breathing.

It retreats at the entrance of the foggy forest, laughing gently at his confusion. “ _This puzzle_ ,” it explains, “ _is one you must figure out on your own_. “

The thought of being alone, navigating through the darkness (he’s sure he sees scowling faces in the trees) has Link halfway through the sign for Wait before he remembers that the voice can’t see him. He spends several minutes simply breathing, willing his feet to either move forward to destiny or backwards to safety.

“ _Courage, Little Hero_ !” the voice prompts gently “ _Come and find me_!”

When dawn breaches the horizon, Link walks confidently into camp —the Master Sword singing with his soul from its place in his arms.

* * *

She’s almost 1 when the prophecy arrives.

Rhoam doesn’t meet with the priests —it’s his wife’s territory and he refuses to meddle. (He doesn’t understand half of what they talk about, and she’s not allowed to explain any of the more sacred aspects anyway)

Instead, he plays with Little Zelda, listening intently as she babbles to him about the toy she’s holding. Rhoam gets a distinct impression she’s telling him a story, although it’s hard to tell since she’s “speaking” so fast.

She’s so smart, and he’s so proud.

Father and Daughter are so caught up in play that they fail to notice Mother walk in. Zelda notices first and practically flings herself at her mother —the enthusiastic greeting is almost enough to erase the haunted look on the Queen’s face. Almost.

They put Little Zelda down for her nap, the young Sheikah guard reading her a story. Rhoam has barely shut the door (he hates leaving his precious daughter, even for a moment) when he suddenly has his arms full of his sobbing wife. Through her tears, he hears the prophecy—hears how his baby girl will have to face the greatest monster of the millennia.

His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth as he tries to console his wife —what can he possibly say?

Calamity Ganon is coming for their daughter.

* * *

He’s 4 the first time he sees her.

Link isn’t shy. He’s not! But something about being so far away from home has him... nervous. He makes sure to keep one hand inside his mother’s at all times and contents himself with exploring with his eyes instead of his feet.

His father is always telling him that a knight observes his surroundings, and Link wants to be a knight more than anything.

(“Are you sure? What about being a chef?” His mother asks with a smile when he tells her. “Nu-uh!” he replies, “I’d eat all the food soon as it’s ready!”) 

He’s watching a group of children he thinks are his age playing some kind of catching game and she comes right up to him and asks him if he’d like to play. He looks up at his mother for permission (an honourable knight follows the rules, and asking for permission is a rule) and follows this unfamiliar girl once it’s given.

“My name is Mipha, what’s yours?”

Link feels his throat close and his tongue go dry at the thought of answering verbally (he didn’t think that’d be possible, with all the water here). But he doesn’t think Mipha knows Sign (most people don’t) so he pulls on his courage to loosen his voice.

“Link,” he states, the syllable coming out quieter than he’d wanted.

If Mipha notices, she doesn’t comment. Instead, she explains the game to him, introduces all the other Zora and they start a fresh game.

By the end of the day, she’s one of his best friends.

* * *

She’s 6 (and a half) and her black dress is very itchy.

She doesn’t want to be here; she wants to be with Mama. Mama always says she feels better when Zelda reads to her, and Zelda wants Mama to get better as soon as she can. Zelda is particularly good at helping Mama, even the nurse says so!

So, she doesn’t understand why she’s standing next to Papa, in her itchy black dress. She does her best to sit still, which she knows is what’s expected of her. 

(She can’t help that her fingers keep a steady rhythm on her thigh, but she tries her best to keep it secret.)

Zelda pouts (just a little) because really there are better things that she could be doing. But Papa told her this morning that it was very very incredibly important that she behave “in a manner befitting of a princess” (which is a phrase Zelda loves, it sounds so grown up!) and Mama says that being a princess is sometimes about doing things she doesn’t like.

She feels Papa’s large hand take her smaller one (it feels weird, all sweaty and cold at the same time) and lead her towards a man she kind of recognizes. He’s dressed in a Royal Guard Uniform, and his face is all red and splotchy. She thinks he must be sad because his eyes are pink and puffy like hers after she’d cried from hurting her elbow. (Papa had looked like that yesterday, and Zelda hadn’t been told why but knows she doesn’t like it.)

Papa takes his other hand and clasps the man’s shoulder; the man returns the gesture almost automatically. Zelda thinks she hears them talking, but her focus is elsewhere.

Just behind the man is a boy who looks about her age. His eyes are puffy too, but Zelda can’t tell if he’s sad cause his face looks like the statutes in the book Mama read to her (and now she reads it to Mama, which is what she should be doing, instead of standing here in this itchy dress!) The boy is wearing a black tunic, and he’s holding something in both his arms. He’s not looking at her, his eyes focused on his bundle as he bounces it gently up and down.

Zelda inches closer to the boy and tries to peer into the bundle. The boy looks sharply up at her and pulls the pile of blankets closer to his chest like he’s scared that she’ll take it away from him.

“It’s all right Link,” says the man, placing an arm around the boy—Link’s—shoulders, “why don’t you introduce your little sister to the Princess?”

‘Link’ looks up at his father, blue eyes wary but trusting, and cautiously angles the blanket bundle so that Zelda can see what it is.

“That’s a baby!” she exclaims, looking up at Papa in awe. She’s never seen a proper one before, and she’s so surprised that she forgets about her itchy dress and the rude boy. Papa laughs, and the mysterious man smiles a little at her obvious wonder and joy.

(Zelda thinks she sees Link’s face shift too, but she can’t tell for sure. The baby is way more interesting anyway)

She makes sure to tell Mama all about it when they visit her later on. Mama smiles and tells her she was a baby just like that, and Zelda reminds her that she’s not a baby anymore, she’s a Princess! She’s six (and a half) and that’s basically all grown up!

When Mama dies a few weeks later, Zelda is pretty sure she is all grown up, because she doesn’t think a little kid's body could hurt so bad.

* * *

He’s almost 12, and this is the most uncomfortable he’s ever been in his entire life.

It’s worse than that time Aryll threw-up on him at the market. It’s worse than the commotion when he’d brought back the Master Sword. It’s even worse than when he’d come before the king to explain the aforementioned commotion.

Public speaking is, easily, his worst nightmare.

Link swears that everyone else in the small class is whispering. Can they hear his heartbeat like he can? Is his face really as red as it feels? Can they hear the pounding echo of the clock hands?

He looks to his paper, where his speech is written. The words blur and swim on the page. He looks at his teacher (is he glaring? He looks like he’s glaring) for reassurance. Or escape. He desperately wishes he could sign his speech, but he’s meant to speak—that’s the point of public speaking.

Link looks at the clock to find it’s only been a few seconds (the clock must be wrong; it feels like it’s been hours) since he was called up to the podium. He’s the last of the class to present, and his teacher had announced that they’ll wait as long as it takes for Link to finish. He looks back down at his paper. His eyes burn and his vision swims, but he will not give the other children the satisfaction of seeing him cry (He’s a knight in the Royal Guard, and the King had said he was Farore’s Chosen, the Hero of Courage. He can’t cry from something as simple as speaking!)

Whispered words make their way into his ears, past the pounding of his heart and the echoes of the clock and the sound of his panic. They’re whispering about him and he knew they would, but there’s no satisfaction in being correct. Link looks up determinedly, trying to face it like he would a fight with a sword (he’d rather fight a Lynel than do this) but has to cast his gaze back to his paper not a half-second later. Their stares pummel into him like physical blows, and they cut deeper than any sword. 

He half hopes that Calamity Ganon will arise right here and now. Goddesses know he’d rather deal with that than spend a single second standing here.

He absently fiddles with the seagull charm Aryll had made him (he’d meant to leave it at home, but she slipped it into his pocket when she hugged him goodbye. Sneaky Sister) and draws a bit of comfort from the rough clay figurine. Stroking it helps focus him on something (anything) other than the stares and the whispering (the way his mouth is dry, and his cheeks burn and his heart in his throat).

Link closes his eyes, lifts a silent prayer for courage, and works to speak without vomiting (either his lunch or the butterflies in his stomach).

* * *

She’s 11, and she honestly doesn’t think her life can get any worse than it is.

Well, she supposes that she could not be the Princess, and instead be homeless on the street. She thinks that would be worse, but it would also solve most of her current problems so she’s really not sure.

She’s frankly not sure how much more she can take! Bad enough that her every waking moment is spent praying for her powers to awaken (she doesn’t even know how she’d be able to tell when that happens), and that she has this prophecy of doom hanging over her head. But this? This is... insulting! It’s disgusting! It’s criminal!

Zelda wants to scream, and she barely holds back from throwing her plate off the table like a child. She doesn’t quite school her face into one of neutrality (not if the stern look Father is giving her is any indication). She doesn’t even care. Her hands are shaking, and she’s dimly aware of how stiff her body has gotten.

He can’t be serious... can he? No, no, she must have misheard him. Zelda quickly reviews in her head, and yes, yes that must be it. She’d misheard something vital, and she’s reacting pre-maturely.

Resolved to clarify this mistake like a proper princess, Zelda breathes out slowly through her nose and resumes cutting the steak into bite-size pieces.

“I’m sorry, Father, but I believe I misheard. Could we please start this conversation over?”

Father looks disappointed in her (which hurts more than she cares to admit) but nods his head.

“As you know, your position as Princess of Hyrule comes with many great responsibilities.”

Zelda puts a piece of food in her mouth instead of answering; she’s not a child and hates being talked to like one. She swallows and nods to signal him to continue.

“You’ve been working very hard on unlocking your sealing power,” he smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners in pride (Zelda feels her heart swell) “and your tutors speak highly of your knowledge of governing and politics.”

This, Zelda thinks, must be where she got lost last time. Praise from her Father is so rare, and she takes extra care to commit it to memory whenever it happens.

“Thank you.” She says, trying (failing) to keep her voice polite instead of prideful.

“There is another responsibility you are ready for, although it is admittedly earlier than your mother was...”

Zelda holds her breath, willing her heart to slow down. Her Father trails off, seeming for a moment like the Father she remembers and not the King that he so often is around her now.

“The Hero of the Sword has been found,” he breathes, looking away from her, “and you are to be betrothed to him.”

Zelda’s entire world falls apart. She hears the loud crash as her chair hits the floor (the two smaller crashes of her fork and knife don’t even register) and stands, hands shaking. Her entire body is trembling now. She hadn’t been mistaken; she’d been correct the whole time!

“What?!”

“Zelda,” her father sounds resigned, but Zelda knows it’s about her constant temper and not the situation, “The Princess and the Hero are bound by a sacred power. The finding of the sword means we may not have much time until the Calamity is upon us. You need to unlock your power as soon as possible.” He turns to look at her once again, and Zelda’s temper loses some of its heat.

“You’re accomplished in math and logic,” he continues, voice fatherly and kind, “surely you can see how putting the two of you together increases the likelihood of your power awakening properly”

Suddenly the fire in Zelda is back at full flame. She’s trying so hard; can’t he see that? She has so little left of her freedom, and he’s taking it away and treating her like... like some kind of element in an experiment! She’s never met this hero, and she’s only eleven, and how can he do this to her?

When his face turns from Fatherly to Kingly, she realizes she’s vocalized her thoughts. The rawness of her throat suggests that she hadn’t been quiet about it either. (She’s too distraught to feel ashamed)

“This isn’t about you Zelda,” the words come out cold. “This is about our kingdom and its future! I have already decided you’ll meet him tomorrow, and that is final. Am I understood?”

Zelda doesn’t even have time to answer: Father turns and walks out of the room before she’s even processed the words. Food forgotten; she bolts to her room as fast as her feet can carry her.

She plans to write a letter to Urbosa, but she ends up collapsing against her door in tears.

* * *

Link wonders if she feels the connection too.

He’d been kneeling with his father when she came in, looking at the plush carpet and focusing on keeping his breathing even. He hadn’t looked up at the sound of the door, so he didn’t see her come in at all.

But the sword had.

The Master Sword had been silent ever since he’d pulled it from its pedestal. In the year since, he’d honestly wondered if the voice had been a figment of his imagination. But he hears it now, clear as day, rejoicing at seeing her.

(He stays on his knees, so he doesn’t see the split-second shock that crosses her face when she enters)

Link blinks in response to the sudden joy in his heart and looks up into the face of The Princess (his future wife). He’s struck with the familiarity, and even though they’ve never officially met (he decidedly doesn't think about his mother’s funeral) he wants to get up and run to her. He wants to wrap her in a hug and laugh with relief.

When their eyes meet, she levels him with a frigid glare. 

(It hurts him in an entirely foreign way)

Their parents are talking, and he knows he should pay attention, but he’s still battling with the feelings he knows aren’t quite his. Link shakes his head gently and resolves to get to know this girl, without the expectation of destiny. He hopes that, at the very least, they can grow to be friendly.

(It’ll be pretty miserable if they’re forced to live with someone they hate for the rest of their lives)

* * *

Zelda is surprised when she sees him. (The brief, familiar presence in her mind is more shocking, but it fades so fast she hardly notices.)

She doesn’t know why, but somehow she’d assumed that the Hero would be much older than she is. She’d expected a knight, not this... boy (never mind that he’s already passed the tests to become a knight, he looks barely older than she is!)

So, her first thought is the relief that she’s not being betrothed to some old man. Her second thought is that he needs a haircut and a hope that he doesn’t smell like some older knights.

Then she sees the sword on his back (it’s almost as big as he is) and the thought she settles on is anger. How dare this boy just waltz into the forest and claim his destiny! She’s worked tirelessly for four years to claim her birthright and is no closer now than she was when she started!

The nervous smile that he gives her when he finally looks up at her is (familiar) infuriating, and she tries to show in no uncertain terms that she hates everything about this arrangement.

In response to her glare, his face morphs into an expression of determined neutrality. 

(His unflappability makes her extra conscious of her lack thereof) 


	2. Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To make fast with bonds or fetters; to deprive of personal liberty, make a captive or prisoner.

It’s her 12th Birthday, and it’s already the highlight of her year.

True, it doesn’t start out special. She rises just before dawn so that she can be ready to pray with the sun. The surface of the water is covered in a thin layer of frost, just as it’s been every day this week. She’s tired and shivering as she heads to breakfast and, as usual, her father isn’t there. (The cook makes her fruit crapes, which is lovely but not nearly as special as the wildberry tea. She nearly bursts into tears)

_ He _ is already there for their shared classes, but Zelda takes to ignoring him as she has done for the last 3 weeks. She sits down at her desk, places her notebook and pencils neatly on top, and waits for Teacher to enter. ( _ He _ taps her shoulder as they wait, signs ‘Happy Birthday’ and hands her a card. If her responding thank you is just on the cold side of polite, well, that’s her business)

(She keeps the card. It's handmade, and it’s clear he put considerable effort into it. It would be horribly tacky to throw out something of obvious skill)

Her day is entirely standard until classes finish. She’s walking from their study space to her room, absently reading over the newest assignment, when she nearly crashes headlong into her Father.

His smile is fatherly, if strained, and that’s how Zelda knows she hasn’t done anything wrong. Fanadi stands behind him, also smiling. It’s unusual enough that her  _ father _ is here to see her, let alone the Sheikah advisor. Impa peeks around her mentor’s tall figure to give her a wave and a smile, and that’s the exact moment when Zelda throws her expectations out the window.

By the time they lead her to the open space below her room, Zelda is about to burst with curiosity.

Impa’s sister Purah is like a kindred spirit. She calls Zelda by her first name (and had all but demanded that Zelda do likewise, despite their official titles), and for all that she’s more than half a decade her senior, Zelda feels like they’re equals.

Zelda does actually cry when Purah asks her to help her with the research she’s doing (“I could use someone to do the grunt work”)

The Silent Princess seeds she’s given (her first real research assignment!) are easily the best birthday gift she’s ever received. 

* * *

He’s just barely 14, and he’d like to have some strong words with the Master Sword.

And Farore. And Hylia. All the goddesses really.

Honestly, he’d understood why he’d been chosen to vanquish a mighty foe: he’s the youngest knight in a century. He’d understood why he’d been chosen as the ‘Courageous Hero’: he fights through his fear every time he has to interact with another human (Or Zora. Or the occasional Goron. Anything with a voice, really). He’s grateful and humbled that the Goddesses saw him fit to carry such a responsibility.

What he  _ doesn’t _ understand is why he’s sitting in on a royal advisory meeting.

The Princess doesn't have to be here! Link doesn’t know specifically  _ where _ she is, but she’s certainly not here! (He knows because  _ he’s  _ the one sitting on the king’s left side, which is customarily where she is)

Link keeps his face impassive as the representative from Hebra continues her report. He’s thankful, if nothing else, that he’s allowed to simply listen without expectation of comment.

He’s supposed to be taking notes.

It’s his newest “class assignment”, attending the meetings that the King has—the ones that aren't important anyway. Teacher had called it a great honour. Father had told him to treat it as a new challenge.

Aryll had said it best: “They’re Royal-izing you!”

And that’s really what this whole thing is about, he thinks. The public speaking and negotiation classes he’d taken before the betrothal. The classes he shares each morning with the Princess, learning about the history and politics of Hyrule. He’s being groomed to be a ruler.

(He’d only ever wanted to be a knight)

...

He comes home late in the evening, having spent his afternoon in the barracks with the other knights and knights-to-be. He’s tired and sweaty, and his brain  _ still _ hurts from his morning of economics.

His father raises an eyebrow at him as he walks in, but Link only nods in greeting. He’s too tired to explain that he’d been so frustrated at the Princess’ cold shoulder and quick tongue (she’d answered every question before he’d even had time to process  _ one) _ that he’d spent hours doing sword drills to calm down.

He collapses on his bed, too drained to even think about dinner for the moment.

...until Aryll comes in with a plate of curry and rice.

The look on her face is dangerous, and his ‘big brother’ instincts are screaming, but she’s got food and that’s all that matters at the moment.

She hands him his food, and Link is about to tear into it when he notices her smirk. He raises an eyebrow at her in a silent challenge, putting his meal safely aside.

Her smirk turns into a full-on grin and she curtseys haughtily.

“Your feast, Prince Link.”

“DON'T CALL ME THAT!”

He’s on his feet, hands curled into fists, face hot. His throat hurts: it’s not used to that kind of abuse (especially not after so much disuse)

Aryll’s mouth drops open.

Link hears the scrape of a chair as his father gets up from the table.

They both just stand there, staring at each other. 

One tear drops down Aryll’s cheeks.

Then another.

He’s never yelled at Aryll like this.

Never.

(He’s not even fully sure why he did now. She hadn’t said anything untruthful or particularly hurtful, and he knew she was just teasing)

He’s still standing in shock when she flees from the room, sobbing.

His father’s hand on his shoulder is like a bucket of cold water. Link sees his mouth move, but none of Father’s words seem to register (He’d just  _ yelled at Aryll _ ).

Father’s looking at him now, and Link can tell that he’s supposed to give an answer (what was the question?).

He places his fist on the side of his head, index finger pointed upwards (he’s lying, he doesn't understand  _ anything _ anymore. But he’s learned that this is almost always an acceptable answer) 

Link makes buttermilk pancakes the next morning. They’re her favourite, and he can’t think of a better way to apologize.

She hugs him before he leaves for the castle, tight and long.

He figures he’s forgiven.

* * *

She’s considering running away and joining the Sheikah.

She could totally pull it off too. Chop off her hair, always wear a mask, change her name. She could say that she was raised by the Yiga but defected. Purah would back her up, and Impa...Impa would disapprove at first, but she’d come around.

Or she could go live with Urbosa! That would do it since no men are allowed. Not even her father would be able to come and fetch her! Two birds, one stone. 

Zelda sighs (it seems like every other breath is a sigh these days) and tries to bury herself further under her cocoon of blankets. She prides herself on making educated choices, but these fantasies are too tempting to not entertain. At least a little.

It takes another 20 minutes to get out of bed (again. She’d never skip out of prayers after all) and she immediately goes to inspect her latest Silent Princess crop.

As theorized, they grow better in groups. Her first few attempts at growing them solo had never even sprouted (she’d thought that maybe the seeds had died until she noticed a group of flowers outside the castle where she’d discarded them), so to have these thin stalks all together is excellent.

She knows they won't live—not with the way they’re already drooping—but she spends another hour caring for them and jotting down notes.

Stalling, Zelda has decided, is the plan of the day.

She knows, after all, that  _ He _ is standing at attention just outside her door. The way he always does. The way he has (and she suspects with a sinking heart, will continue to do) since her father had assigned him as her Knight. Her  _ personal _ Knight.

It’s really not his fault, and Zelda knows this when she stops to think rationally about it. Not even  _ she _ can refuse a direct order from the King of Hyrule, so what hope did he have? Honestly, she doesn't even think she’d be as upset if  _ He _ weren’t so...unaffected. They could gripe about it together (Father had never bothered to learn HSL, so there’s no chance of them getting in trouble) and it would be grand. Then, at least, it wouldn't feel as though only Zelda is being stripped of her freedom—they’d both be a kind of prisoner to fate.

But he’d taken the news with that Din-forsaken unchanging expression and had proceeded to follow her like a stone puppy ever since.

His family had even relocated to the castle so that he could be at her side from sunrise to sundown! (The benefit was that she’d caught him  _ emote _ once, as he helped his sister unpack. Just for a second, but he’d responded to something the small girl had said and his face had  _ moved _ .)

Since  _ He _ ’s so determined to be unresponsive to every new and terrible change in their lives, Zelda’s decided to be miserable enough for both of them. She hasn’t spoken to  _ Him _ since, and she’s taken to spending as long as possible either in prayer or in her room—forcing him to stand stoically by himself.

Zelda hears her stomach grumble and realizes that she hasn’t yet eaten. She (barely) resists the urge to smack her head against her desk. She really hadn’t wanted to leave her room at all today, but she supposes she’ll have to face the music eventually.

They (well, their fathers) had combined their typical summer schedules in an attempt to get them to “bond”. Because more than two full years of classes together  _ apparently  _ isn't enough time. Tomorrow, they’ll head to the Great Plateau and the Temple of Time (which is something from her schedule) then they’ll head to Zora’s Domain (something from his). Father won't tell her more than that, which she suspects is because he doesn’t want her to find a way to weasel out of anything. It’ll be just the two of them, the whole summer, and she can’t think of anything she’d rather do  _ less _ .

_ He _ falls into step behind her (she doesn't say good morning and neither does he) as she makes her way to the dining room, and she re-evaluates the plausibility of her earlier plan to join the Sheikah.

* * *

They’re walking along Lake Kolomo, and Link would think it’s beautiful except for the grim reminders of duty.

Before him, the Princess walks briskly, reviewing their summer itinerary. Behind him, strapped to his back, the Master Sword rests. Link is sandwiched by responsibility; it’s all he can do to not crumble.

“...from there we’ll make our way to Zora’s Domain,” the Princess’s voice brings him out of his thoughts, “I understand that it’s your tradition to spend summers there?”

He nods, but he knows that she isn't really looking (or expecting) him to answer.

“We won’t be able to spend as much time as you’re used to,” she sneers, “but it will be nice to visit. Lady Urbosa sent word to the castle before we left, requesting to meet you. I’ll be spending some time in the city as well. You’ll have to stay elsewhere, of course.”

Link can hear her smirk.

They walk in silence for a few minutes, each caught up in their own thoughts. They’re not far away from the Great Plateau, and Link is honestly excited. He’s never been before (on account of him not having a traditional knighting ceremony) but it’s one of his father’s favourite places in the kingdom. They’ll have to stay at least a week so that the Princess can complete the necessary prayers, which doesn't bother Link at all.

Princess Zelda slows her pace, and Link is quick to follow suit (he’s encroaching on her privacy enough as it is, the least he can do for her is give her space). Eventually, she stops, and looks over her shoulder at him.

“Tell me the truth,” she begins softly, “how proficient are you right now, wielding that sword on your back?”

Link keeps his face neutral, though inside he’s reeling. What is she asking? How proficient is he? Even if he weren’t the youngest knight in over a century, the sword had  _ chosen _ him!

“Legend says that an ancient voice resonates inside it” she continues, and Link starts to think that maybe he’s not meant to hear this. Maybe she’s just talking to herself like she sometimes does to one of her experiments (which would mean she sees him as a kind of inanimate object, which...wouldn’t exactly be out of character) She turns more towards him, and he does a quick mental scan to make sure his body is as relaxed as he can make it.

“Can you hear it yet... _ hero _ ?”

Link is dumbfounded. He’s not sure he could answer, even if he’d planned to. She’s sneering at him like he’d  _ chosen _ to be the Hero. Like he’d  _ asked _ , and the world had bent to give in.

He wants to tell her that the answer is complicated. That he hasn’t heard a ‘voice’ in almost 4 years, except the brief flicker when he’d first met her. He wants to say that he’s proud to be chosen, despite the turn his life has taken since. He wants to ask  _ why _ she’s so angry at him when they’re basically locked into the same scenario.

(He wants to tell her that he thinks they could be friends if she gives him a chance. That maybe they can bear their burdens together.)

Instead, he remains silent. Those answers are vulnerable, something he can’t afford to be. She turns around with a huff and continues their trek.

They don’t speak the rest of the hike.

* * *

She’s managed to sneak off.

Which is  _ excellent _ and she sends a quick mental prayer of thanks to Hylia for the minor miracle.

They’d received word on their last day on the Great Plateau that  _ His _ father’s battalion (including his sister, who is young enough that she wants to be with her father at all times) would be headed out to the Rayne Highlands to deal with a reported monster infestation.  _ His _ father had requested his presence since one of their members had fallen ill.

They went, of course. And when Zelda noticed that  _ He _ was caught up in reviewing with the other knights, she’d bolted. (Purah’s been teaching her how to sneak like a Sheikah. It’s  _ technically _ only to be used for getting close to specimens, but she’s pretty sure Purah would approve of this little adventure.)

She’s content to sit by herself (for the first time in nearly a month) at the ancient columns and write about the various flora she can see. She mostly recognizes them, but there are a few varieties of wildflowers that she’s uncertain of. She’s been drawing the purple flowers at the base of the column, first a detailed rendition of the flower by itself and then a rough sketch of the cluster and the column. Underneath, she details the average amount of leaves, the height, the way the soil feels...anything that she thinks will be useful information.

She’s just putting the finishing touches on a drawing of one of the leaves when she hears the whiney of a horse. 

It’s  _ Him. _

He’s galloping up towards where she is, and at first, she feels guilty for sneaking off without telling him. Then she sees his face, unbothered as always, and her remorse turns to anger.

_ He _ wasn’t even worried! She clenches her fists so hard that her pencil snaps in half.

She drops her shoulders from where they’ve risen to her ears, straightens her back and stalks regally towards him.

“I thought I made it clear that I am  _ not _ in need of an escort.” 

_ He _ doesn’t respond, as always. Zelda puts her fists on her hips and looks away, closing her eyes tightly to avoid crying from frustration.

“It seems I’m the only one with a mind of my own.” She turns back to him with a glare, “I, the person in question, am fine, regardless of the king's orders.”

She really is going to cry now, if she has to look at this stoic expression any longer. Or she may attempt to punch it off his stupid face. She stalks past him before either can happen, her sketchbook held tightly to her chest.

“Return to the castle with the Company, and tell that to my father  _ please _ .”

She keeps walking without looking back. His footsteps are like thunder behind her. She whirls around, dropping her sketchbook and stomping her foot.

“AND  _ STOP FOLLOWING ME _ !”

He’s stunned. She can tell because he blinks a few too many times. Her cheeks heat up and she’s gasping.

Zelda hurries to grab her sketchbook and run to her horse. She shoves the book hastily into the saddlebag (her broken pencil is forfeit), mounts, and takes off.

Of course, her horse does  _ not _ want to be pushed, and after the third time she attempts to spur him on he simply throws her off. (She hasn't fallen off a horse in years, but it figures that it would happen  _ now _ when  _ He _ is here)

Zelda picks herself off the ground and just runs, scrubbing roughly at the wet spots on her face.

When she hears hooves coming towards her, she assumes it’s her own horse following behind her. It’s a shock when the sound passes her and stops, revealing  _ Him _ on his own horse blocking her way.

She tries to go around him to the right, but he moves to block her way. So, she goes left, running in an attempt to confuse either him or the horse, but he’s too quick.

She glares at him. He stares impassively right back.

Right as she’s coming up with some kind of plan, he dismounts, landing in front of her.

“Princess,”  _ He _ signs, “I’m sorry that you feel this a burden. However, it is my duty to protect you wherever you choose to go.” 

She opens her mouth to retort, but he looks away and lifts his hands again.

“Had you asked, I would have sent my father or another knight to accompany you.”

“...What?”

_ He _ looks at her again, the slightest bit of exasperation leaking through his stony mask. “I know that you and I are in an...” his fingers droop momentarily, his eyes rolling upwards in thought, “interesting position. If you needed a break from my company, I would have been more than happy to provide one. One that  _ didn’t,”  _ he raises one eyebrow, spelling the word out instead of signing it directly, “put your safety at risk.”

Zelda is honestly flabbergasted. She hadn’t thought of it from his point of view; she hadn’t even considered that maybe  _ he’d _ like a break from  _ her _ just as much.

Her guilt reaches its apex when they arrive at camp to find it empty, save a lookout and Aryll. The lookout rides off as soon as they arrive.  _ He’d _ forgone his mission with his father because of her. Because he had to look for her, and now it’s too late. He’s stuck babysitting her because she hadn’t thought to look for another solution.

Somehow her guilt only makes her angrier.

* * *

He’s sure he’s going to explode.

Zora’s Domain is normally the place he feels most at home. Maybe it’s the age difference—most of his friends are decades older than he is so he’s already expected to be the childish one. Unlike when he’s at home, he’s not judged for any mistake or quirk. In fact, many of the Zora’s had decided to learn HSL after one of his first summers visiting, which makes him feel like he actually belongs. A normal summer at the Domain is a welcome break from his fellow Hylians. Normally, it’s the one place Link feels like he’s not living up to anyone’s expectations.

This is anything but a normal summer.

The Princess’s snarky attitude isn’t normally enough on its own to bother him. But after a month and a half of constant cold shoulders, escape attempts, passive-aggressive insults and her just...pretending that he’s not even there, his patience has worn pretty thin. Then, he’d realized that he wouldn’t be able to relax his “Perfect Knight” Persona the way that he normally would.

So, he’s already in a bad mood when they arrive at the Domain, and the news that Mipha is out and won’t be back for the foreseeable future threatens to tip him over the edge. (He hasn’t seen her in almost two full years, and he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he doesn’t get to talk to her)

He’s determined not to let his summer be ruined, and to enjoy his ‘time off’, so he eats as much as he can their first night and settles cozily into his bed (he barely resists the urge to bounce on the water bed, but he figures that that would be too much).

Things don't improve.

Despite Link’s best efforts, The Princess does not want to socialize with his friends. She’s lost in her book, or she goes exploring for hours, or (the worst) she spends time with King Dorephan talking about the politics of their respective regions. Link bears it all with his straight face and declines to offer any alternative activities (the Princess doesn’t really ask anyway, and he’s not one to tell  _ The Princess of Hyrule _ what to do)

Mipha arrives on the last day of their stay, and Link is certain that he’s never been happier to see her. She introduces The Princess to Sidon and suggests that the three of them go to Shatterback Point for a picnic lunch overlooking the lake.

The Princess is ecstatic and agrees to the offer without even a second thought. Link is happily surprised when Mipha asks one of the palace guards to accompany them, so that Link may have a rest from his duties.

Lunch is wonderful —the weather is warm but not hot, with the sun shining pleasantly down on them. There is a gentle breeze that carries the smell of wildflowers and water lilies. The Princess and Mipha talk for a moment, polite but not overly friendly until the Princess excuses herself to take some notes on the local plant life.

Mipha leans back, relaxed, and looks over at him. Link tries to smile, he honestly does, but he’s been keeping his face emotionless for so long that it’s a strain to change. Mipha (who always notices when he needs her to) asks him what’s wrong, and Link just...explodes.

He explains in a flurry of flying fingers everything that’s been happening since he pulled the Sword—the series of fiascos that now define his life. He complains about his classes, and the meetings he’s now expected to speak in. He gripes about how annoyed he is that he’s being groomed for a role he doesn’t want. He talks about how the Princess seems angry all of the time, and he can’t figure out why.

(He leaves out some of the nastier elements of the Princess’ behaviour. He doesn’t want Mipha to worry about him, or be mad at the other girl, he just...needs to talk to a friend.)

He collapses on his back, breathing heavy, and covers his heated face with his hands.

“She just...makes me so angry!” he admits, using his voice so that he can continue to cover his face.

Mipha makes a sympathetic noise, and Link feels her flop down next to him. 

“Is there anything I can do?”

Link huffs a laugh and shakes his head (he knows that  _ this _ princess will be looking so as to not miss his answer). “Unless you’re suddenly an expert in adolescent Hylian princesses” he signs, rolling onto his side so that it’s easier for her to see.

Her sharp-toothed smile is a refreshing change from the sneers that he’s been seeing recently.

“I am afraid that is one thing I haven’t studied. But Link,” she rolls over too, so that they’re eye to eye, “do not let this change who you are. Zelda will come around. You are both so very young...” Mipha sits up, to have a view of the other princess. Link copies her.

“Give both of yourselves time. You’ll learn and grow, and things will get better.” she turns to Link and smiles encouragingly.

He can see the Princess walking back, but this is definitely the best Link has felt all year.

* * *

_ My Dearest Urbosa, _

_ I cannot wait to see you! It’s hard to believe it’s been over a year since our last visit, it feels somehow much longer. _

_ I am making great progress with my studies—both formal and informal. While it is to my great dismay that I cannot seem to grow the Silent Princess, Purah assures me that researchers across the whole kingdom have also been struggling. Not even Purah, with her great knowledge of science, can grow them, which makes my own struggles much easier to bear. _

_ If only the rest of my struggles were so easy. _

_ My power remains buried, and I am at a loss as to how to unlock it. Am I not dedicated enough? Should I be doing something different? Something better? Many of the Princesses of Legend have played musical instruments, but I know that neither Mother nor Grandmother was musically gifted, and they had no issues accessing The Power. _

_ Do you remember anything Mother would do when she accessed The Power? I do not remember enough of my time with her to cross-reference what I’m doing in my devotions with what she would do in hers. Were you ever witness to anything she did? Even by accident? When did she first manifest her power? Have I ever shown any signs of it, in infancy perhaps? How do you control your powers over lightning? I haven’t found any kind of Hylian equivalent to the Thunder Helm, but do you know anything? Are your powers tied to the heirloom, or is it something you created after the power manifested? Did Mother have anything like that, a generational heirloom tied to power? _

_ Honestly Urbosa, I feel so...hopeless. Why must this great evil loom over my time? Father is growing more and more stressed, and I dearly wish I could show some kind of progress for his sake as well as my own. I do not want to fail him, or my kingdom. _

_ Sometimes when he speaks to me...it’s like I’m not even really his daughter. It’s only happened once or twice, and I know he’s just worried but... The knowledge isn’t comforting. It’s as though sometimes I am dealing with my loving Father, and other times I am standing before the King. I do not understand, and I fear that asking him or bringing it up at all will just make the situation worse. _

_ All the more reason why I am looking forward to our time together. It will be so incredibly wonderful to see a friendly face once more! _

_ Which brings me to my next point. We will be spending time together inside the city, yes? I know that part of the reason for this extended visit is so that you can meet...HIM...but we will have some time without him? _

_ Travelling with him is even worse than studying with him. You remember I told you about his stone-faced impassivity? It lasts even now! We’ve spent every day together, just the two of us, for two full months and I haven’t seen him emote once! Even here at Zora’s domain, amongst his so-called ‘friends’ he will not smile or frown or...or anything! And he insists on following me everywhere, despite being in one of the safest places in all of Hyrule. _

_ I’ve been trying to...encourage him to go and do whatever it is that he does, but he will not go without me. Even when King Dorephan and I were discussing the finer differences in the linguistic tradition of our races he stayed by my side and didn’t so much as sigh! _

_ I think he is waiting for me to give in to him, like the rest of the world (and even the Goddesses themselves) has for what I can only assume is his entire life. He seems to be able to mount every hurdle and come out not only victorious but with nary a scratch on him to suggest a struggle! _

_ He makes me so angry!! _

_ Lady Mipha is due back tomorrow I’m told, and for the sake of making a good first impression I must make sure that I am good and rested. If I keep talking about HIM, then I will never sleep and be as crotchety as a bear in the morning. _

_ My sincerest blessings, and all my love, _

_ Zelda _

* * *

It takes him all day to find them.

Decree of the King or no, he doesn’t get into the city. Not as the Chosen Hero, not as her appointed knight, not even as her betrothed. (He doesn’t even try to scale the walls, because that would be insulting and a diplomatic nightmare)

He’s not worried...per se. Sure, his father had let him know that there were reports that the Yiga clan had taken residence in the Gerudo Desert, but he doesn't really think they have a chance at harming The Princess when she’s protected by a whole city of Giantesses. He also knows that Lady Urbosa is remarkably close to the Princess, so he’s confident that her safety is assured.

So no, Link’s not worried about her. (He’s a little bit worried about her) He  _ is _ worried about his own negligence of duty, but it’s not as though there’s anything he could have done. (It’s a disturbing trend in his life, he thinks wryly)

Mostly, he’s bored. The desert is hot, and while he could wait at the Oasis nearby, he doesn’t want to be caught slacking. If the city is attacked, he wants to be there. So, he patrols the walls, for a while, marching as though the whole army of Hyrule is with him.

(The guards laugh, but it sounds fond as opposed to malicious)

Patrolling the city gets him to about 9 am. Two hours after arrival.

He has no idea where the Princess is or what she’s doing, and the thought bothers him more than he thought it would. The thought of her being without him makes his heart clench for reasons that he doesn’t even  _ want _ to analyze. He’d thought that having a break would be a relief, but he’s grown used to her company and he...

He pens a letter to Aryll and his Father.

Two and a half hours since arrival.

He chats with the merchant outside the walls. She’s nice enough, and she signs (a bonus). Sand Surfing does sound fascinating (if he could get inside the city to rent one).

Three hours since arrival.

He works up the courage to talk to the guards. They’re wary at first, but once they discover that he’s not trying to trick them into letting them in, they’re...interesting. He’s never learned so much that he didn’t want to know.

Three hours and twenty minutes since arrival.

He’s patrolling again when he overhears that Lady Urbosa is not actually in the city. A travelling Gerudo had mentioned that he may be able to meet their beloved chief if he was at the right entrance when she came back.

Link just about loses his mind.

He knows he’s desperate because needling travellers and armed guards is really not something he ever envisioned himself doing. But he knows that the Princess will be with Lady Urbosa, and the knowledge that they’re outside the city (he could be with them!) is maddening.

After most of an hour passes with no one knowing (or willing to give him) any information, Link takes it upon himself to search. He decides that it would be foolish to stray too far from the city since he doesn’t want to miss them coming back. He sees a few structures that he thinks maybe the Princess would be interested in studying, and so he starts his search there. He finally sees two Sand Seals gliding together towards a lookout post to the south of the city, and even from a distance the glow of the Princess’s golden hair is unmistakable. He’s thankful for the coolness of the setting sun as he begins his walk.

By the time he gets there (and convinces the guards that he’s not a threat to either Lady above) it’s already dark. The first few stars are twinkling, as though calling to their brethren to join them.

The Princess is sleeping on Lady Urbosa’s shoulder, wrapped in a blue blanket and surrounded by pillows. Lady Urbosa is looking down at her, one arm pulling the smaller girl close, and it reminds Link of the many similar moments he had shared with his Mother (he struggles to not let the grief show, but he’s luckily quite practiced)

He quietly walks towards them, trying not to wake the sleeping Princess. She looks more at peace than he’s ever seen her, and he won't interrupt that for anything less than a real emergency. He also doesn’t want to be attacked, so he makes sure to make enough noise to hopefully alert Lady Urbosa to his presence.

She looks over her shoulder as he nears them.

“Ah, well...you certainly got here fast.”

(He can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic or not)

“I should have expected as much from the Princess’s own fiancé and appointed knight.”

Link decides not to say anything (he doesn’t even know what he would say). Instead he looks at the sleeping Hylian, hoping that the Gerudo chief will pick up on his silent question.

“She’s been out on a survey all day today.” Lady Urbosa says fondly, following his gaze, “Still as the sands now...”

They share a moment of silence before Lady Urbosa looks sharply at him. Her fierce grin is almost startling.

“So... spill it, boy,” she begins conspiratorially, “have the two of you been getting along all right?”

Link has to actually take a step back. He doesn't know what to say, or how to answer. It’s one thing to vent to Mipha about his struggles, but to explain them to this great Lady? With the Princess sitting right there? He thinks he’d rather jump off the tower and walk all the way back to the castle.

His panic must show somewhat on his face (he curses internally at the slip up) because Lady Urbosa is quick to soften her gaze.

“It’s okay...” she soothes, a chuckle in her voice “I know. Your silence speaks volumes.”

The Gerudo chief looks back at the young girl, who has started to mumble softly. Lady Urbosa gently wipes some of the hair off the pale forehead.

“It’s not your fault you know. She gets frustrated every time she looks up and sees you carrying that sword on your back. It makes her feel like a failure when it comes to her own destiny.”

That...is new information. He never would have thought that the Princess was...jealous. But he looks back on their interaction and it makes a kind of sense. (He realizes that she may not hate him, and his heart does a backflip)

“Additionally,” Lady Urbosa continues, oblivious to his revelation, “the prospect of a betrothal is something of an insult to her.”

Link’s mood drops to his boots. He takes a sharp breath in, fingers shaking. He vaguely wonders if there’s really a hole in his chest, or if the pain is just imagined. 

“No, not like that,” Lady Urbosa explains gently, looking at him sympathetically, “it has nothing to do with you! Zelda has always loved her freedom and struggles with any aspect of that freedom being taken. To have her future mapped out like this...”

He releases the breath he didn't even realize he was holding. It makes sense, Link feels the same way. Or he did, when he found out that he was suddenly being thrust into a grand destiny he’d never asked for.

(He can’t really say he minds too much now. The feelings from the Master Sword when he’d first saw her...they’d left an impression. Link is certain that even if she spends the rest of their lives hating him, he’ll be content to keep the Princess safe and be by her side.)

“Don't worry, it’s not like you carry blame in any of this.” Lady Urbosa continues, “You’re both prisoners to fate in this way. Bound to destiny and each other...”

They fall into a comfortable silence once more. The air is starting to get cold, and Link is about to suggest they move somewhere warmer when the Gerudo begins speaking again.

“It’s unfortunate,” she says, so softly that Link almost strains to hear it, “she’s put in more than enough time. Ever since she was a young girl, she’s gone through rigorous daily routines to show her dedication... She once passed out in the freezing waters trying to access this ‘sealing power’”

Link remembers that. Sort of. There had been a day not long after they started classes together when the Princess had entered the classroom drenched and shivering, her hair not combed or braided and her lips a faint blue. He’d asked if she was alright, and she had ignored him in favour of making herself as small as possible in her seat. He hadn’t pressed.

“And she has nothing to show for it...”

He’s stunned. Sure, Link’s never  _ seen _ any power from the Princess (except the power of her quick wit and sharp tongue) but he’d assumed that it was just...invisible. Or that she hadn’t  _ wanted _ to show him. He’d never realized that the power had simply...eluded her. His own destiny certainly hasn't been easy to get (the Lost Forest was a maze, and the Master Sword had tested his strength to the point he was almost drained) but it had  _ called _ to him. He hadn’t had to seek it out—it had been largely accidental. To train day after day, giving your all, and not see any improvement...

“...be doing the same thing.” Lady Urbosa finishes (Link hopes it wasn’t important because he definitely wasn’t listening).

“She really is quite...special”

She looks up at him, smiles with a mixture of challenge and fondness that Link isn’t sure how to interpret, “You make sure to protect her with your life. It’s quite the honour”

He lifts his index finger to his chin, brings it out, spreading the rest of his fingers, and places his open palm onto his other fist.  _ I promise _ he mouths, unsure if Lady Urbosa speaks HSL but not trusting his voice to speak without breaking.

She must understand because she looks away from him and towards the open desert.

“The night brings a chill... It’s probably time we take her in.”

Link moves forward to help, but he sees her whole body tense up, and it causes him to pause.

“Or...” the mischievous tone in her voice doesn’t relax him at all. That’s the same tone of voice that Aryll uses before she suggests something crazy. Like putting sugar on Father’s eggs or flying the neighbouring boy's underwear from the roof like a flag. 

Link knows better than to trust that tone.

He’s proven right when Lady Urbosa snaps her fingers dramatically, and honest to goddess  _ lightning _ responds to the action. Link basically falls over, stumbling back a few steps and needing to push off the floor to right himself.

The Princess doesn’t fare much better. She jolts upward as though stabbed, nearly smacking Lady Urbosa’s chin with the back of her head.

“Urbosa!” she cries, “What was that?! Did you feel that?!”

Lady Urbosa, for her part, has the fakest innocent expression on her face that Link has ever seen. (he makes a mental note to  _ not _ introduce her to Aryll. They’d give Calamity Ganon a run for its rupees with their mischief.)

The Princess is still reeling, and he doesn’t think she’s fully awake or aware yet. She’s scrambling around, half panicked, reaching for her notebook. She does a double-take when she sees him behind her.

“Wait, what—how did you—what are you doing here?!”

Lady Urbosa bursts out laughing, and the Princess turns her confused and offended expression towards the elder lady.

“Wh—what’s so funny?”

Lady Urbosa convinces the Princess to stay overnight at the inn at the Oasis, which Link is beyond thankful for. He turns all of the new information about his charge over in his mind as he lays in bed and resolves to find a way to help the Princess however he can.

Opportunity knocks sooner than he would have liked.

* * *

She’s going to die at 14.

She’s going to  _ die _ at  _ 14 _ because of  _ sheer stupidity _ !

_ She's going to die at 14 because of Stupidity and Sand!! _

When she woke up that morning, she’d assumed the day would be fairly normal. Urbosa had yet to formally meet  _ Him _ after all, and after spending all of yesterday avoiding him she's quite sure Urbosa will let him tag along this time.

Zelda is still confused as to how he'd managed to find them last night. (She wonders if maybe he'd stalked them the whole time...somehow. She's almost impressed.) She resigns herself to her shadow and decides to forgo stalling since she really does want to spend more time with Urbosa.

To not see him standing at attention outside her door is startling. She wastes several seconds just standing in the hallway, confused before she realizes that this is her  _ chance _ . If she can make it to Gerudo Town without him, she can spend a good deal of time enjoying her freedom before Urbosa makes her introduce them.

It's almost too good to be true!

It's really not her fault that she ends up side-tracked. The lizard she spots isn't native to the region, and she simply _ must _ figure out why it's here and if it's adapted. She steps off the path to follow the creature, but she's not lost! She takes careful note of how to get back to the path, and she can still see the city either way.

The third most amazing happening of the day is the attack.

She's writing down her observations when she sees a traveller collapsed in the sand. It's second nature to help, and it's approaching noon, so Zelda knows it's life-or-death for this woman. She has some extra elixir anyway, so it's no trouble. Zelda's happy to help, it's what a Princess should do.

How was she supposed to know that it was a Yiga in disguise??

Zelda scrambles towards the city, distant on the horizon. If she can just get there...

The Yiga warrior is only paces behind her.

Zelda pushes herself to run faster.

The Yiga gets closer.

She digs her toes into the ground as she runs, willing the slippery sand to hold.

She can almost hear the sickle slicing through the air.

Two more Yiga warriors appear out of nowhere.

Zelda leans back instinctively, the momentum nearly causing her to fall.

She pivots. 

The first Yiga is ready for her.

The Nayru-forsaken  _ sand _ shifts under her feet.

She's falling.

They're so close, she can hear their breath under their masks.

She's going to die. She's going to die at 14, a failure. Her death will doom the kingdom, there will be no one left to fight Calamity Ganon. Her father will be all alone. So will Urbosa.

She's so scared.

She can't watch. She wants to stare defiantly at the assassin, wants to challenge them and face her own death with honour. (she doesn't want to die.) But she can't. Her heart is hammering a staccato beat, mouth open like a toad, hands grabbing desperately at the sand as though a shield will materialize out of the coarse grains. Zelda scrunches her eyes closed and looks down, bracing herself for impact.

It never comes.

The second most amazing feat of the day happens instead.

_ He _ is here. Zelda doesn't see him, but she hears a yell, a pained gasp, and a thud. She opens her eyes to see him standing above her, between the other two Yiga members. He growls ferally, tightening his white-knuckled grip on the Master Sword (it's red with blood). She can't breathe through the mixture of shock, relief, and residual fear.

The Yiga don't move.

_ He _ takes a threatening step towards them, not even caring that it's two on one. She can't take her eyes off him. There seems to be a kind of raw power radiating off of him—she can feel it.

So can the Yiga.

They run off, disappearing after a few steps and leaving their dead comrade. Somehow, Zelda's not surprised at their cowardice.  _ He _ stands for a moment longer (it could be hours as far as she knows) threatening the empty air before his sword hits the sand with a splat.

Zelda's so shocked at the noise that she scrambles backwards, forgetting for a moment that she's safe.  _ He _ whirls around, takes a few solid steps towards her and gently gets on his knees to be at her level.

He's still giving her space, but she's pretty sure that this is the closest that they've ever been.

"Are you hurt?" he signs steadily, eyes already looking her over for any injuries.

It takes her a second to really process the question. She's too preoccupied with the whirlwind of emotions she's feeling, not to mention the bizarre thought that even though his eyes are travelling up and down her body, she doesn't feel disrespected in the slightest.

She must take too long to answer, because he scoots closer, determined blue eyes staring deeply into hers.

"Are you hurt?"

"Fine" she signs back. She doesn't trust herself to speak. Her hand is shaking (her whole body is), and she's suddenly aware of the wet tracks down her cheeks.

Then the single most amazing thing happens.

Link's face loses all semblance of a stony statue. It erupts with emotion—fear and relief and anger all at once. He exhales, releases the tension in his shoulders and springs forward, wrapping her in a strong hug.

His touch is steadying, and Zelda leans into it before she even thinks, hugging him back desperately. She burrows her face in his shoulder, clutching at his tunic as she cries. She sobs, ugly and loud, and he just holds her and rocks her gently.

(She feels wet droplets hit the back of her neck, and the knowledge that this man that she'd treated so horribly is  _ crying for her _ brings on a whole new set of tears.)

Zelda doesn't know how long they sit there, crying in the heat, but when her tears are spent, she leans back and smiles at him. It's watery and thin, but he smiles back nonetheless. He gets up, signing at her to wait, and goes to grab his sword.

(If she vomits when he double-checks that the would-be assassin is dead and cleans his weapon, that's her business. And if Link runs over to hold her hair and offer her his water when she's finished, well... that's her business too.)

Link walks her all the way to the town, never leaving her side but keeping a respectful distance. She formally introduces him to Urbosa, and they spend the afternoon watching Sand Seal races.

That night, as she documents the events of the day in her journal, she reflects on his reaction. She’s amazed that he felt... anything positive towards her, but he'd clearly been frightened at the prospect of her being hurt and relieved to see her safe. There’s no mistaking the raw protective energy he’d been exuding.

He’d killed for her.

And he'd...hugged her. He'd been so relieved that he'd hugged her.

And she's hugged back. She could barely even look at him yesterday but today she'd hugged him.

She's half-asleep, body cozy and mind slowing down when the thought drifts warmly and lazily through her head.

Hugging him had felt  _ right _ .

She'd very much like to do it again.

* * *

In all 15 of his living years, Link has never been so confused.

Especially not pleasantly confused.

The Princess had been quiet for the remaining two weeks of their time in Gerudo. He hadn’t really thought much of it—she  _ had _ been attacked after all. (He thinks it was the first time she’d encountered the death of another living person, and he knows from experience that it takes its toll on the mind.) He’d given her space, and she hadn’t made any effort to really close that distance.

(He’s terribly embarrassed about his reaction. He doesn’t regret it, but he  _ does  _ say a thankful prayer to every single goddess that no one was around to see him  _ hug _ the  _ Princess of Hyrule _ )

He’d kept his talk with Lady Urbosa in the back of his mind, ready to pull up when she decided to be cold towards him again.

Which...never happens?

Lady Urbosa had been told about the attack, of course, and had sponsored a carriage to take them out of the desert and to the stable. (“No more scientific side-tracks, Little-Bird.” she’d said with a wink). It’s an odd thing, pulled by sand seals instead of horses and with long, smooth planks of wood instead of wheels. But it works just like a regular carriage, and Link is thankful for the Gerudo’s foresight.

Link is about to sit up on top with the driver when the Princess timidly requests that he stay inside with her. Link had shrugged, nodded and climbed in.

That’s when the...weirdness starts.

The Princess starts to ask him...questions. Nothing too personal or deep, but things like his favourite colour (green) or his favourite food (everything). He’d been taken aback, but the answers were harmless enough. He’d asked her for her answers to the same questions (her favourite colour is yellow, and her favourite food is wildberry cake. Or wildberry...anything). It’s somehow both horribly awkward and the most natural thing in the world to talk to her, and the cognitive dissonance makes him dizzy.

He enjoys their talk nonetheless and is almost sad when they make it to the stable. Surely the weirdness will end, and they’ll be back to normal. They eat lunch at the stable, and although the Princess ignores him, he’s not slighted by it. It’s what’s proper with so many people around, and so many people want to talk to their Princess. (She doesn’t ignore him so much as she doesn’t have time to talk in between bites of her rice balls and conversation with the locals)

He mounts Epona, and she mounts her horse (he learns that she hasn’t named it, on account of how they don't get along) and they’re off. He moves into their normal positions, her leading and him behind, but she pulls her steed back so that they’re on the road together.

She  _ apologizes _ for not being able to talk to him (Link is sure he’s hit his head) and looks over to him bashfully. He accepts the apology in a daze, and her smile (small and timid, but a  _ smile _ ) makes his heart flutter briefly. She talks to him for the rest of the day, until they make camp for the night. Once again, it’s nothing deep or important. She talks about their classes, the ones she’s excited for and the ones she’s dreading. About the various festivals coming up. She chatters excitedly about the research that she and Purah are doing, about the artifact that Purah had found and makes fun of the Sheikah woman’s lack of creativity in naming.

“She calls it the ‘Sheikah Slate’ because it’s shaped like a slate and it has the symbol of the Sheikah on it! I mean honestly, Purah is brilliant but sometimes I think she’s a few rubies short of a ring...”

He’s cooking dinner by the fire, and she’s writing in what he thinks is her personal journal. (the scientific one is red, not blue. He thinks. Maybe it’s the other way around?) He’s mostly focused on not burning the curry he’s stirring, and listening for any dangers in their immediate surroundings, so he doesn’t notice when she stops writing and stares at him. He certainly doesn’t notice her bite her lip or twirl her pencil around her hands.

“Link?”

He looks up from the pot at his name being called, and it takes all his years of training to keep his face from betraying his surprise. The Princess is sitting on the ground, legs pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around her knees. She’s not really looking at him, gaze turned towards the fire but a thousand years away.

“I just...I wanted to...” she looks away, eyebrows furrowing as she struggles for words, “Do...do you...”

She heaves a frustrated sigh, drops her arms down and looks him dead in the eyes.

“I would like to formally and emphatically apologize for the way I’ve treated you. Not only was my behaviour unfitting of a Princess, but I was intentionally hurtful, rude and...” she takes a deep breath and looks away again, “if you thoroughly despise me because of how I’ve treated you, I understand completely. I know that...that I have no right to ask this of you, but...if you can find it in your heart to forgive me then I’d like very much to start over.”

Link is stunned. His only thought is that maybe he’d left his brain out in the desert, or maybe he’s suffering from heatstroke.

He blinks once.

Twice.

The Princess doesn’t move, except to tighten her posture in an attempt to become smaller.

They both seem to hold their breath until the Princess hurriedly gets to her feet and gathers her things.

“I’m sorry,” she stammers, “I shouldn’t have asked, I shouldn’t have put you in that kind of position. We’ll just forget it and—”

Link walks over to her and, in a move worthy of Farore’s Chosen One, grabs her shoulder. She stops suddenly, muscles tense under his hand. She’s still turned away from him, so he gently tugs on her shoulder until she turns.

“Hello Princess,” he signs, “my name is Link. It’s nice to meet you.”

She’s stunned, her mouth open in a small ‘o’ shape. It changes like lightning to a grateful smile, emerald irises glassy.

“Please,” she signs back slowly, “call me Zelda.”


	3. Woven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To work up into an elaborate and connected whole.

She's 14 and more determined than ever.

Zelda doesn’t normally consider herself introspective, but there are two things that she does know about herself:

The first is that she hates when people are unkind. (The irony of the last two years isn't lost on her)

The second is that she doesn’t do anything halfway.

The combination has certainly gotten her in trouble before (there was an incident with one of the palace dogs and a visiting Baron that she’d rather not think about) but today she’s planning on weaponizing it.

And... maybe she’s rushing things a little bit. In the couple of months since the Yiga fiasco, Zelda has been trying to cram two years worth of friendship into her relationship with Link. It’s just that...she feels terrible and she feels she owes him a little bit. Or a lot bit.

He’d deny it, of course, and just claim that he was doing his duty, but the man had saved her life! 

She’s careful not to go overboard. She knows better than to assume that they’d be best friends all of the sudden. On that first night back at the castle, she’d written a list of questions to ask him. Then, she’d categorized every question into sections based on how close she thinks she has to get to him before it’s appropriate to ask. (Then she’d wondered if she was crazy and thinking too much about it.)

Her goal is to ask him one of these questions a day. That way it’s not too overwhelming, but it shows that she’s trying.

Also, she really does want to get to know him! And this seems like the most logical and scientific way to achieve that goal. She finds that many of her questions lend themselves to more questions, and although they are quite different, she has a surprising amount in common with Link.

(Talking to him is natural in a way that she hasn’t really experienced with her other friends and colleagues. While few of those connections had ever really lasted, Link is someone who she genuinely enjoys being around.)

So, when she opens her door to say her dawn prayers, and it’s one of the older knights instead of Link, she’s understandably disappointed. He’s not at breakfast either, which has Zelda worried.

He ends up being late to their morning class. He looks awful. His hair is messily tied into a bun, face pale, eyes dim. She’s almost positive that his tunic is on backwards. He has a half-eaten apple in one hand, books in the other (and... they’re the wrong books. Those are for tomorrow's class)

He mumbles an apology as he shuffles to his desk and ignores her questioning (worried) look. Zelda doesn’t focus at all, too worried about the boy next to her (she’s not sure if she can call him a friend yet) to really care about the proper hierarchy of a household or whatever it is that Teacher is droning on about. It’s like the past few months haven’t happened, his face is stonier than she’d seen it since.

They break for Lunch, and Zelda has a few hours between her prayer time and their next lesson, so she goes into her room and pulls out her journal. There’s another list that she’s been keeping, hidden in a pocket at the back of the book. It’s full of everything that she thinks is important about the boy who will become her husband. (It’s just data collection, it’s not weird!)

He’s obviously upset—a blind Moblin could tell that much. And he must be quite upset if it’s showing in his appearance.

Zelda will not stand for it.

...except that she has no idea how to cheer him up.

She reviews her list at least half a dozen times. And she can’t see anything that’s relevant or helpful.

No, wait...

There!

Right at the top of the list, she finds something that, while it won’t help directly, is better than nothing.

She makes it to the knights’ quarters with little to no fuss—most of the castle staff saw her without Link and came to their own conclusions. She’s thankful that no one outright asks, because it would be kind of hard to explain. She knocks tentatively on the door when she finds it and prays to all of the Goddesses that this idea works out.

When Aryll opens the door, Zelda nearly melts from relief. (If his father had been there, it would have been decidedly more awkward)

(It’s still more than a little awkward)

Aryll looks bewildered but lets her into the small apartment. It had been specially commissioned, Zelda remembers, for their family. It’s...cozy. They’re standing in what looks like a small kitchenette, and Aryll takes a seat at the table. Zelda takes one of the other chairs, sitting directly across from the younger girl.

“What can I do for you, Your Highness?”

For all that Zelda is a half-decade older (not to mention royalty), she has to resist squirming in her seat. Aryll has her hands on the table, sitting prim and proper, and looks for all the world like Teacher on a bad day. Link’s neutral expression looks odd on the younger face, and the Princess is pretty sure that Aryll’s grey eyes can see into her soul. The older girl takes a deep breath in and calls on all of her negotiating skills.

“I need to ask you a question about Link.”

One of Aryll’s eyebrows quirks up.

“He...” Zelda has to look down, face heated, “He didn’t look well today, and I couldn’t figure out what was wrong. I was hoping that you might know, and that perhaps you’d know how to help?”

Silence reigns for several moments. Zelda fights down her blush and looks back up at Aryll. Once green and grey eyes meet, Aryll’s stoic expression gives way to one of unbridled joy.

“Oh, well I can certainly help with that!” the younger girl exclaims, “Come with me!”

Zelda follows her, taken aback by the sudden change in attitude, to a small room at the back at the quarters. There’s a small bed adjacent to the wall, and a desk covered in wood shavings. Underneath the desk is a pile of books, and a box filled with various sizes of wooden blocks. There’s a small window, and the sill is covered in wooden figures. Some of the shapes are hard to make out, but many of them are clearly animals or people.

Aryll sits sideways on the desk chair and gestures towards the bed.

“Normally, I’d be pretty tight-lipped about Big Brother’s moodiness,” she explains as Zelda sits down on the bed, “but we’re kinda like sisters, and that means we gotta stick together.”

Zelda blinks. Sisters? She supposes that’s true, since she is eventually going to marry Link, but she’d never really thought about it before.

“The reason he’s so upset,” the young girl continues, scooting to the edge of the chair, “is because it’s his birthday.”

“...Pardon?”

“Yep!” Aryll pulls the box of wooden blocks towards her with her foot and pulls out a half-finished figurine. It’s the front end of a horse, incredibly detailed. “Link thinks that the day is unlucky, so he doesn’t really like it.”

“Why would he think that?” Zelda asks, “I didn’t even know he believed in luck!”

“He normally doesn’t,” Aryll states, looking up at the Princess again, “I don’t really know why this is different.”

They sit in silence together, lost in thought. Aryll grabs a small knife off the desk and starts whittling the wood.

“I can’t ever really remember him having a bad birthday,” she says, small hands making experienced strokes with the knife, “he normally just grumbles and pouts. But this year...”

Zelda tilts her head to the side, listening intently. Aryll seems to struggle for a moment within herself, stopping her work but keeping her eyes locked on it.

“You said...you said you wanted to help right? He’s not in trouble?”

Zelda shakes her head frantically. She doesn’t know how to gain the trust of this girl, but she feels that her answer is especially important.

“All I want to do is help.” Zelda pours all the sincerity she feels into her voice, “I know I haven’t been...the best kind of person to him, and I want to make it up to him however I can.”

Aryll puts her knife down.

“Pinky swear?” she says, holding out her smallest finger. (Zelda hadn’t really realized how young she was until that exact moment. Had she been this...like this at 9?)

“Pinky swear.” Zelda extends her own smallest finger solemnly and curls it around the younger girl’s. Aryll is ecstatic.

“Good! Then I have a plan...”

That’s how Zelda finds herself running towards the classroom, covered in glitter, wood shavings, and paint. She makes it just before their scheduled time to see Link in his chair, just as miserable as this morning but with the correct set of notebooks, and slides into her seat beside him. He raises a curious eyebrow at her, but she only has time for a fond shake of the head and a quick “later”. 

When the class ends, she catches his hand before he can escape (they both blush furiously at the contact, and they both steadily ignore it)

“I have a surprise for you,” she says lightly.

He seems suspicious but follows her lead. She practically drags him down the hallways of the castle, not quite managing to keep the excited hop out of her step. They stop before an oft deserted room, and Zelda makes him close his eyes before she agrees to open the door. He resists, clearly catching on to the mischievous gleam in her eyes, before sighing and doing as he’s told.

Zelda opens the door, moves behind him, and pushes him into the room.

Link stumbles, glares over her shoulder at her, and then does a double-take.

In the middle of the room stands a small table and three chairs. On the table rests two wooden figures and a small cake. Aryll is standing beside one of the chairs, grinning so wide that Zelda is almost concerned that the lower half of her face is going to fall off (though from how hard her cheeks hurt, it’s safe to assume she wears the same expression)

“Happy Birthday Link!” the girls exclaim.

For his part, Link seems flabbergasted. When he doesn’t move, Zelda sneaks into the room around him, coming to stand next to Aryll. She takes in the expression on his face: eyes wider than she’d ever seen them, mouth hanging open, eyebrows touching his hairline.

She wishes she’d had the Sheikah Slate so that she could capture the look on his face.

“This...” he croaks, and he must be really shocked to have reverted to using his voice, “You both did this?”

Zelda’s hands start to shake. She can feel her thoughts start to spiral. Does he not like it? Aryll had seemed so sure...but maybe it was a test? Had she failed? Did she end up making it worse?

Aryll’s laugh cuts through her anxious thoughts.

“You...you look like...a trout!” she manages between fits of laughter.

Suddenly whatever spell Link had been under is broken. He levels his sister with a half-hearted glare and practically glides towards her. Zelda has hardly blinked before Aryll is hanging upside-down over his shoulder. She shrieks as he jumps around, and Zelda feels all at once out of place and like she belongs.

Link sets his sister down after a moment and moves towards the Princess. He reaches out to her, but then stops himself.

“Thank you” he signs, smiling so hard it looks like it hurts. His body is still positioned awkwardly, halfway towards the hug he seemed like he was going to give her.

She meets him halfway and finishes what he started.

“Happy Birthday Link.” She whispers, trying to convey every emotion she’s been feeling over the last few weeks into the words.

He hugs her back, which she takes to mean that he understands.

That evening is filled with laughter. Link is politely impressed by her gift, (she had tried to carve Farore’s Symbol into a circle, but it ended up as a kind of square egg with squiggles. At Aryll’s urging, she’d added paint and glitter, and she’s not sure it looks good but it’s not terrible either) and he practically inhales the cake. When Aryll nearly falls headfirst into the table for the third time, they decide it’s time to call it a night. Link carries Aryll to their quarters (she falls asleep on the way), and Zelda tries to excuse herself quietly. Link (curse his observation skills) notices her trying to sneak off before she can even make it out the door. He asks her to wait while he tucks his sister in. Despite her protests, he insists on walking her back to her quarters.

(It would almost be like nothing has changed, except that they walk side-by-side, engaged in a silent conversation)

When they reach her door, she remembers that she has one more surprise for him.

“One moment!” she says suddenly, disappearing into her room but leaving the door ajar so that he knows not to leave.

She comes back out with a card. On the front is a picture of him, Master Sword held high above his head with the Triforce glowing in the background.

“This is for you,” she breathes, tucking her hands behind her back, “as a... supplement to my earlier gift.”

He stares at the card in his hands.

“You drew this?” he asks, wonder clear in his voice.

Zelda nods. Link holds it carefully and smiles gently at her.

“Goodnight Zelda.” he signs one-handed, refusing to let go of his newfound treasure.

“Goodnight Link,” she signs back, “See you tomorrow.”

She steps into her room and closes the door. She leans her forehead against the smooth wood, willing the butterflies fluttering in her stomach to settle.

She falls asleep with a smile on her face, plans to make Link’s next birthday even better rolling gently across her mind.

(And if she dreams about his lips on hers, all but the warm feelings are gone in the morning.)

* * *

He’s 16, and the future is...

Well, it would be a lie to say ‘bright’, considering the great evil on the horizon, but bright otherwise!

The combination of minds that is Zelda, Purah and newcomer Robbie is a terrifying concoction of intelligence. Between the three of them, they’ve recovered an ancient Sheikah artifact, four large beast-like machines, and the text that describes what they’re for and how to use them.

Zelda and Purah have also pulled seventeen pranks, of which only four can be traced loosely back to them and at least nine that Link is certain Aryll had a part in.

Link isn’t sure which feat is more impressive.

The Princess seems to have overcome whatever problem she had with him once and for all (it had taken a very long time for Link to believe she wasn’t just going to flip around to her previous behaviour, but she had eventually started bonding with Aryll. For better or worse, it was their budding sisterhood that had eventually convinced him). They have a kind of...agreement of duty, if it can be put that way.

Zelda is more than aware of Link’s...aversion to public speaking, as well as the lack of HSL education among the general population of Hyrule. While the Queen traditionally holds more power, based on her connection with the Goddess Hylia, the King is required to be able to pick up her responsibilities if needed. And while neither Link, Zelda nor King Rhoam want to consider the possibility that Zelda follows the path of her late mother; it is still a possibility. Zelda, however, had come up with an artful solution.

He hadn’t even said anything directly. He’d been in (another) one of the king's council meetings, and Zelda had accompanied him. He figures that she must have seen his aborted hand gesture when one of the visiting dignitaries had asked him a question, because as soon as they’d left the chamber she’d dragged him down to the library and passionately explained her idea. It took a few days of searching, but they’d eventually unearthed a book that detailed the lives of the past heroes. They’d found (to Link’s astonishment) that the Hero of Time and Hero of Sky had also spoken primarily in HSL. The Hero of Twilight, and Wind were mentioned to have signed to various degrees, and three of those Heroes had also become King in their own right. Armed with the new information, Zelda managed to convince her Father to make HSL the official second language of Hyrule.

“Therefore,” Zelda had told him, bouncing on her toes with fire in her eyes, “you won’t have to actually speak anytime you don’t want to! Not for official business anyway. Emissaries from other regions will require a translator should they not speak it themselves, and the language will be taught in schools and guilds. Soon, just about everyone will be able to sign as well as speak!”

(Link made a mental note to never get between Zelda and a mission she felt important. She was like a dog on a hunt, and he’d been a little scared)

Meanwhile, he’d noticed that Zelda was becoming increasingly frustrated with their studies. He thinks that it has more to do with the mounting pressure on her to unlock her powers and less about the subject matter, but it shows up in the classroom either way. While she makes a dedicated effort to not snap at him, Link had noticed her angry scribbling in the margins of her notebooks. Link doesn’t blame her, he’s almost frustrated on her behalf. So, he’d casually suggested to her that he teach her archery, since many of the past Princesses had seemed to know the skill and had even manifested bows according to some of the legends.

(If it gives him the chance to get closer to her, and share one of his passions, well...no one can prove the intent)

As predicted, Zelda latches onto the idea with a vice grip. He expects her father to resist, but all it takes is the mention of the (somewhat flimsy) connection to her powers and he gives his permission.

At the first lesson, Link nearly laughed. She’d been so eager to learn, asking questions about anything and everything. She’d even brought more than a dozen books, announcing that she’d already read half of them. Then, when Link handed her the bow, she’d held it upside down and in the wrong hand. (Her pout when he corrects her is adorable).

After a few weeks of lessons, he takes her out hunting. She loses twelve arrows, accidentally breaks another four, rips her dress, and kills a pheasant. She waltzes into the kitchen, hands dirty and hair askew, holding her prize in the air.

(The head cook congratulates her on a job well done and then kicks both muddy teenagers out of his pristine kitchen. They eat the pheasant for lunch, just the two of them.)

(Link’s only very rarely seen her so proud)

When she doesn’t show up for class one morning, he’s concerned but not worried. The frigid winter had lingered into spring, and she’d looked awful standing in the freezing waters of the palace spring in nothing but her thin, sleeveless, devotional dress. He’s glad she’s taking care of herself, assuming she’d stayed in her warm bed to chase away the chill. She runs back into her room after the noon-prayer, but then again...it really is cold out. He dismisses the budding anxiety in the back of his brain.

When she doesn’t show up for their archery lesson, he’s officially worried. She’d once stalked down to his family quarters in the middle of a Farore-forsaken blizzard to ask why he hadn't met her at their usual spot, so whatever is keeping her now must be serious.

Link knocks on her door but doesn’t get an answer. Technically, he has the right as her Knight to come into the room without her permission, if and when it’s a potential safety risk, but he really does not want to intrude on her privacy. After a few minutes, he knocks again. Silence greets him.

“Go away!” is the response he gets the third time. Link frowns. She doesn’t sound sick, more... sad. Almost despairing. He sits against the doorframe and tries to silently send her strength and encouragement. 

“Link?” she calls weakly just before dinner.

“Zelda?” he calls back, scrambling up to his feet.

“Could...could you tell the kitchen to put my dinner aside, please? I’m not feeling well.”

Link furrows his eyebrows together and crosses his arms.

“Yeah, I can do that.” He hesitates at the door, not wanting to leave her if she’s sick, “Do you want me to call the physician?”

“No, but thank you. I’ll see you at dusk for prayer,” she answers, voice a little firmer.

He’s not happy, but if she wants privacy, he’s more than happy to give it to her. He brings his dinner back up to her room and eats outside in the growing cold. Something about Zelda’s sudden illness doesn't sit right with him, and he knows better than to ignore his instincts.

The mystery illness continues for three full days before he decides he’s had enough. Firstly, he misses her, and he’s big enough to admit it. Secondly, he’s sure that he’s the only one who is seeing her right now, and even then, it’s only during the three times a day that she prays. She’s barely eaten, hasn’t smiled, and is significantly quieter than he’s ever known her to be—including when she was actively ignoring him.

Worst of all, no one else seems to be concerned.

On the second day, he’d gone to the physician anyway, and the man had the audacity to just brush it off! Labelled it as some kind of “girl problem”, patted him on the shoulder and told him with a wink and a smirk that it would pass in about a week.

(Link had gone immediately to the barracks, and had shot several targets with a crude rendition of the man's face on it)

On the third day, he’d talked to King Rhoam, who’d been concerned but explained that this happened ever so often. He’d advised making sure she continued her prayers and kept some snack food handy (which Link had started doing almost immediately—she wouldn’t take it) and let her work through it.

Link does not consider himself someone who breaks the rules. He rarely even considers himself someone who bends the rules. Especially when those rules come from the King himself.

Link does, however, consider himself creative. Not traditionally, all of the art skill went to Aryll, but he excels in clever solutions. His position as Knight is decidedly vague, as he doesn’t report to anyone but the Princess herself. He’s loosely expected to be by her side, to protect her from harm and to keep her focused on her devotions. As her fiancé, he’s expected to learn the ins and outs of running Hyrule, and to somehow help her unlock her powers (just, apparently, by being around.) And as Chosen Hero, he’s expected to defeat Calamity Ganon.

He takes all these roles and expectations incredibly seriously, which is why he’s spending the afternoon in which he would normally be teaching archery to peruse the local toy shops.

The one thing all his roles have in common is the amount of time spent getting to know his Princess. Through what Zelda calls “the observational method” (and Link calls “Using his eyes and brain”) he’s discovered that the princess adores anything soft and fluffy. She’s constantly going to pet the various dogs and cats when they go out and has more fur on her winter coat than a bear. Her favourite blouse is a hideous yellow monstrosity made of a rare, incredibly soft fabric, and she keeps a stash of soft blankets in her study for when she has a day to sit and read.

So Link walks through the toy shop silently, running his hands over all the plush animals and narrowing down what he thinks the softest one is.

... 

Sneaking into her study is a little bit more challenging, but not impossible. He grabs every blanket he can find, her favourite book, and several pillows. He stuffs as many as he can fit into the backpack he'd brought with him, and piles the rest neatly next to the study door, before heading down to the kitchen. They’re not surprised to see him (he has unfortunately made quite a reputation for himself amongst the cooks with his willingness to try literally anything) but they are surprised by his request. Lastly, he pops into his shared family quarters to talk to Aryll. His little sister had been dismayed when Zelda hadn’t shown up the previous day for their scheduled “Sister-Bonding-Experience” and was concerned about her new-found friend. She’d wanted to help when Link had mentioned planning something, and he’d promised to keep her in the loop. He doesn’t think she’ll be able to help the way she wants to, but it would be unfair to not include her.

(Aryll seems to come to some kind of understanding about the situation, because when he comes in to update her she sagely tells him that the Princess probably needs some quiet time with a friend, and that he should probably go alone to do that since he knows her better. Link gives her a hug, thanks her profusely, and wonders when his baby sister had gotten so intuitive.)

Link lets the night progress as normal: he greets her at her door just before dusk and tries to get her to eat a rice ball. Zelda nibbles on it, just to appease him, but only gets halfway through it. She sways where she stands in the near-frozen water and Link isn’t supposed to be looking, but he’s concerned that she’ll fall in and drown. If Hylia won't forgive him, then... well she will forgive him, because he’s looking out for his Princess, and that’s what he’s decided it means to be Chosen.

Once the moon is up, Zelda (blue-lipped and trembling) drags herself out of the water, accepts the cloak he hands out to her, and treks up to her room.

(She doesn’t finish the rice ball, and she doesn’t say goodnight. She just sighs and turns her empty eyes up to the moon before closing the door softly behind her.)

(Link doesn’t sleep, he’s too busy turning his plans over and over again in his mind. If he has his way, it’ll be the last time she looks like that for a long time.)

He arrives at her door just before dawn, as is typical, but this time with a full backpack. Zelda doesn’t even acknowledge it, just drags her feet all the way down to the spring. He leaves the backpack by her door, knowing that it will remain untouched, and follows her.

They’ve been out for less than an hour when he hears the splash. He spins and is greeted by the sight of his Princess on her knees in the water, gentle ripples brushing her chin. He's at the edge of the spring in less than a second, but he won't go into the sacred waters.

"Zel?" He calls softly, praying that no one is around to hear the informal address.

"Hmm?" She responds distractedly.

"I..." Link stammers and he wishes she would turn around because he's sure his voice is going to fail any second now (it always seems to, when he needs it) "I think we should go in now"

Link holds his breath and counts his heartbeats in the moment it takes her to answer.

"Okay." she finally replies, and oh... if those two despondent syllables don't shatter his heart.

He gets her to her room, and it's like leading a small child. She hardly reacts to his touch, clutching the robe he'd given her like a lifeline. She's still shivering, which he's thankful for in a grim kind of way. Link sits her down on her bed, finds that hideous yellow monstrosity of a shirt and the trousers he’s seen her wear on research expeditions, and plops them next to her. He drags the backpack into the room (no use in letting the blankets get cold), starts a fire in the fireplace, and heads out.

When he comes back, a smaller travel pack protectively in his arms, she hasn’t moved. She’s still staring forlornly at the floor, hands in her lap, still as a statue. He sets the pack on the desk gingerly and moves towards her.

“Zelda?” he signs, moving into her line of vision, “Hey...come back to me Zel.”

Not even her name sign (the sign for flower, but with a Z drawn on his cheek at the end) rouses her, which is certainly a first. Link takes her (still cold and shivering) hands in his.

“Zelda.” he manages, “Look at me please.”

Her eyes meet his, and he sees a small spark. It’s the most he’s gotten in almost four days, and it brings a small smile to his face. He moves her hands so that he has one free (he’ll have to resort to fingerspelling, which really isn’t the most efficient way to communicate, but he’s definitely done with his voice for the immediate future and the contact seems important. Grounding).

“You need to change, or you’re going to get sick. I’ll be right back.” he stands, letting her hands slip through his reluctantly, “I will be right back. I promise. You understand?”

He waits until she places her fist on the side of her head, index finger pointing up, until he leaves. He comes back in his own travelling attire, arms laden with the blankets and pillows from the study. His eyes are closed when he enters (just in case) and her surprised giggle warms him up way more than the blankets in his arms.

“It’s alright,” she whispers, “I’m dressed.”

He opens his eyes to find her sitting on the floor like she hadn’t quite made it back to the bed. He smiles at her and starts draping the blankets over various furniture. Zelda watches him, coming more alive as her mind works to figure out this new puzzle. Once the blankets are properly hung (he has to move a small wardrobe, so it takes longer than anticipated) he throws about half the pillows down, hides his gift among them, and offers his hand to his Princess. She takes it, clearly confused, and allows him to lead her to the fort and sit her within it.

The last thing he does before he joins her is to grab the small travel pack and the rest of the blankets and pillows. From the pack, he takes out two teacups, a tall pitcher of tea (that is somehow still warm) and two covered bowls of simmered fruit. Link sets them down on a piece of bare floor, pour two cups of tea, and sits down next to her. He drapes a blanket around their shoulders, grabs his own bowl and starts to eat.

Zelda wavers, clearly torn between continuing her self-imposed fast and being polite, but eventually does decide to pick up the bowl. (Link’s stubborn glare may have helped)

They sit and eat in silence for almost an hour. To Link’s amazement, Zelda finishes the entire bowl. She’s not relaxed, but she seems less empty than yesterday.

The surprised noise when she takes a sip of the tea draws a full-on smile out of Link.

“Wildberry!” she exclaims, “How did you—”

“I’m the cook’s favourite,” he explains smugly.

Instead of making her laugh, his joke seems to deflate her. He doesn’t know what to say, but Aryll has told him that he’s a great listener so he decides to put that to the test.

He’s thankful for his training, because it takes another hour of sitting in silence before she speaks again, and he’s not sure he’d have the patience to wait if he hadn't been a Knight.

“Don’t you have class?” is not what he’s expecting to hear.

“It’s our day off, remember?”

“Oh.” she fiddles with her cup, turning it around in her hands, seemingly fascinated by the leftover liquid spots at the bottom. “May I ask you a question?”

He shrugs, knowing she can feel it from where their shoulders touch.

“Why...Why are you so quiet all the time?”

Now that is...shocking. He’s not sure how to answer, starts several times but always changes his mind about what he’s going to say. Zelda waits patiently, pulling her legs up to her chest and resting her cheek on her knees.

“I...even before I pulled the sword, there was always a lot of pressure on me to...perform, I suppose.” he eventually states, “My father was—is—one of the highest-ranking knights in the kingdom, so we represented him and the King everywhere we went. When Aryll was born, I wanted to be a good influence and role model. By then I was already the youngest swordsman in recent history, and a squire to the Royal Guard. Then...” he pauses and takes a deep breath, even though he’s signing he feels winded.

“Then you pulled the Sword and became a Hero and future Prince.” Zelda finishes.

He nods, “Yeah. People are always watching me, waiting for me to slip up. Especially the people who don’t want me to succeed. One of the very first lessons you learn when they teach you one-one-one combat is to never project your weaknesses. A visible weakness is a death sentence in combat, and everything is combat in one way or another.” Zelda is visibly engaged, nodding along as she listens.

“So, I decided,” he continues, encouraged by the life in her eyes, “that it would be better to be quiet and still than to give people anything they could use against me.”

She’s in awe for a moment, and he’s not sure why. He’d only told her the truth, and saying it made it sound...kind of sad. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything? Or maybe it would have been better to lie? He’s supposed to be cheering her up, not—

Her head falls to his shoulder, halting his spiralling thoughts. He shifts slightly so that she’s more comfortable, and her hair tickles his neck.

“Sometimes,” she whispers, “I wonder if my powers won’t awaken because I’m not dedicated enough. That’s what the priests all say: that I should be singularity focused on prayer and devotion to Hylia. They don’t like that I’m learning other things, like archery or technology. Father doesn’t like it either, but he allows it because he’s desperate.”

Link wraps one arm protectively around her without even thinking.

“I heard them talking the other day, about maybe cancelling my lessons and limiting my time with Purah.”

This is news to him, and he wonders how anyone could think that. How could they miss how hard she works? Don’t they understand that the reason she’s studying so hard is so that they’ll have weapons against Ganon even if her powers don't awaken?

“So,” she sniffs, “I decided I would prove them wrong. I thought that...that if I cast aside everything else—classes and friends and food and... everything—that they’d see how hard I was working. It’s worked before! And I thought maybe...maybe Hylia would see it too. And that this time I would actually unlock my powers and...and then...” she’s sobbing now, and Link hugs her closer.

“And then everyone would be proud and... It’s been eight years Link! How...why isn’t...why isn't anything I’m doing enough!”

Link pulls her into his chest, and she wraps her arms around him. He rests his forehead on the top of her head and lets her cry. Inside, he’s seething. Angry at the King, angry at the Priests, angry at the entire world. He aims to protect her from it, even if it’s only for the day.

“Why aren’t I enough...” she breathes into his tunic when her tears have dried.

Link pulls her gently away from him, levels her with a stern glance and signs “You are.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but Link places one hand over her it (and promptly blushes furiously. Zelda may be blushing too, but it’s hard to tell since her face was already red). With his other hand, he digs in the pillows until he finds his gift.

He places the small, fluffy cow firmly in her hands.

“Do you remember,” he signs, taking his hand off her mouth and trusting that her curiosity will still any protests, “when we went to Hateno with Purah?”

She gives him a confused nod, so he continues, “Do you remember when we were on our way back and we passed that farm? And there was that cow who had just been washed or brushed or...whatever one does with a cow? You burst into tears because it was, I quote, ‘The single most Loveable thing you’d ever seen.”

He smiles at the memory. She’d taken maybe 50 photos with the Sheikah slate and bounced happily the entire trip back to the stable. He doesn’t even remember why they were there, but he remembers that darn cow.

By the embarrassed smile on her face, she remembers it too.

“The girl who was so excited that she doodled cows on the margins of her notebook for three days is more than enough for her kingdom.”

It’s like he’d slapped her. She recoils and tries to look away, but he’s not done. He gently taps her cheek, a signal for her to look at him.

“You know the knights tell stories about you,” he starts when she looks back at him, “about your kindness, dedication and ferocity. When they don’t think I’m around, I hear them exchange stories about your latest escapades. Like how you got the teacher at the local school fired when you found out he was hitting the kids. Or how you asked for Pipit to be part of your guard when you went to Rito village after he’d been saying how it was his dream to go. Aryll adores you, she’s so excited to have you as a sister that she’s been asking Father to put a second bed in her room so that you can sleep over.”

There are tears in her eyes, and his fingers are shaking so hard it’s almost hard to get the signs out.

“You are more than enough for your people Zelda. And anyone who says differently doesn’t really know you and doesn’t deserve to. You are, without a doubt, the most dedicated and hardworking person I’ve ever met. I don’t know why your powers haven’t come yet, but you’re worth more than your abilities.”

“And,” he tacks on after shaking the lingering emotion out of his fingers, “If anyone tries to tell you differently, I will duel them.”

Her sparkling, surprised laugh heals the wound that's been festering in his heart the past four days. She snuggles back against his chest, wrapping the blanket closer around them and clutching the little cow close.

They’ll have to get up to do the noon prayers in a few hours, but for now, Link is content to keep her close and safe (and loved).

* * *

_ Father, _

__

_ Although the shrines on the Great Plate remain unresponsive, I have good news regarding the Divine Beasts. _

__

_ We have successfully found two champions who have agreed to pilot the Divine Beats. And thank Din, because I was worried that no one would be able to best the trials. _

__

_ Of course, the sample size for these two beats was fairly small, the beats that remain may be harder to tether. _

__

_ Rudania was easiest to find a pilot for, because the Goron population is not as large as the Rito. Four Gorons had passed the trials, which I hadn't thought possible given what we were able to interpret from the notes of the ancient Sheikah. We brought all four of the potential champions to Rudania and asked them each to attempt to control it—him. _

__

_ The first three Gorons could not activate the main control terminal, but the fourth, Daruk, had hardly stepped towards it before the unit flared to life. It seems that there is a fourth trial, one that is not recorded, wherein the beast must accept and connect with its pilot. _

__

_ Daruk reported that although he could not pilot it—him—fully, he felt a strong presence in his mind and soul. The more he leaned into the connection, the stronger it became, and he was able to control more aspects of the beast. That's how we learned that they, apparently, have a degree of sentience. _

__

_ Daruk was still having trouble piloting when I left, so we will have to visit during the summer. Hopefully, by then the bond between them will have strengthened. _

__

_ The second champion is of Vah Medoh, who obviously needed to be a Rito. These trials came down to two, but we already knew how to narrow it down. _

_ Unfortunately, we couldn't actually take the Rito to Medoh, and one of the contestants was...less than thrilled about taking orders. We had to break for the day—which is why we are late returning—and when we went back one of the Rito finalists wasn't in town? _

__

_ You'll be happy to hear I kept a reign on my temper and behaved like a proper princess. _

__

_ When we were able to resume, we asked each Rito to call Medoh to them, and Revali, the warrior we had to retrieve, was the one that Medoh responded to. He will be an indispensable ally, although Link requests that I mention that he believes Revali will be difficult to work with. _

__

_ By the time you get this letter, we will be nearly home. I am looking forward to seeing you again, and hopefully having some time to talk. _

__

_ May the Goddesses smile upon you _

__

_ Zelda _

* * *

"I doubt this will let up anytime soon..." he hears behind him.

Link doesn't turn around; the statement doesn't really need an answer. He stabs his imagined enemy, pulls back and swings the Master Sword diagonally downward.

Keeping his skills up to par is important, and he may as well use the surprise downtime to his advantage.

(And he really does love the rain. Something about running drills to the irregular rhythm of the droplets is soothing)

Behind him, taking shelter from the storm underneath the large tree, Zelda has pulled out her embroidery project. Already there's the outline of a large bird flying from the corner of the silky blue scarf, although she'd only filled in the tail before getting bored with the monotonous work. Link's sure if he turns around, she'll be working on the border instead, which is apparently more fun. (They seem the same to him, but he's not one to argue with her. Well...not normally.)

"Your path seems to mirror your father's," she begins conversationally "you've dedicated yourself to becoming a knight as well."

He ends the drill by bringing the sword down slowly in front of his face, blade poised to slice his face or that of his enemy. A reminder of the respect the weapon requires of its wielder. He breathes in the smell of steel, breathes out a prayer for continued safety, and turns around. As predicted, Zelda is diligently working on the border of the scarf, the Sheikah Slate resting on her hip.

She pauses and looks up at him.

"Your commitment to the training necessary to fulfil your goal is quite admirable." She praises with a smile, "I can see now why you would be the chosen one."

The rain's steady splashes are the only sound between them for several moments. Link decides against starting another drill, sensing that this isn't all his princess has on her mind.

He's right.

"What if," she hesitates, "one day... you realized that you just weren't meant to be a fighter?"

Link cocks his head to the side slightly.

"But... the only thing people ever said was that you were born into a family of the Royal Guard, and so no matter what you thought, you had to become a knight."

Zelda looks away from him and takes a deep breath.

"If that was the only thing you were ever told...I wonder, then... would you have chosen a different path?"

Link frowns, unsure of what to say. Her voice is lighter than it usually is when she's truly upset at herself, but...

He decides that the best course of action is to get out of the rain.

He takes a seat next to her (making sure not to drip on the scarf) as she continues.

"It's not...it's not about my powers. Seeing Daruk struggle even when Rudania accepted him was... encouraging. It made me think that maybe that's what is happening to me? I..."

She bites her lip, searching.

"The blessing comes from Hylia, but the Princesses of legend were always chosen by Nayru, just as you have been chosen by Farore. I've always felt that wisdom was pursuing knowledge and knowing when to...well...when to be clever instead of smart, if that makes sense."

She looks at him out of the corner of her eye, and he nods to show he gets it.

"I... I wouldn't say I have really felt Nayru in any sense of the word, not the way that Daruk and Revali feel the beasts. But when I'm researching, I feel...like this is what I'm meant to do. More than prayer or attending diplomatic negotiations or learning which curtsey to use for which occasion. Learning about the land and building on the accomplishments of those before me... That's when I feel the most blessed."

Link doesn't know how to respond. What could he say to that? He's silent for several moments, but eventually, he taps the Princess's shoulder.

"My mother," he begins when he has her attention, "always encouraged me to be a cook."

Zelda squints her eyes at him, her mouth falling open just slightly. He suspects she's trying to imagine him in the garb of the palace chefs.

(She's cute when she's curious)

"But it was never for me. I used to say that it wouldn't work because I'd eat everything before it would make it to service."

She laughs and it sparkles, genuine and true. It's contagious, and he finds himself laughing heartily asking with her.

"The real reason," he signs when they've both regained control of themselves, "was that something about being a knight felt... Right. I loved cooking—still do—but when I thought about doing it forever, it always felt like I was meant for more."

Bright sunshine is starting to peek through the clouds, painting the landscape with crystal droplets. Zelda snaps a picture with the slate and puts the scarf safely in her travel pack. She doesn't get up, so Link follows her lead (he would follow her anywhere) and waits.

"Do you think," she asks, fiddling with the slate but not focused on it, "that maybe I'm not meant to be a princess?"

He frowns slightly, in thought. By the time the silence has stretched enough that she looks at him fully, he knows what he wants to say.

"For me," he answers carefully, "I was able to do what I love because I was placed in the position to do so. If my father hadn't been a knight, and encouraged me to be one, then I wouldn't have found the Master Sword. But if I hadn't learned to cook, I wouldn't know the value of care and caution. A roaring fire will destroy before it does any good—and that's true of both cooking and fighting."

He stands up, offering her a hand. She takes it, allowing him to pull her up.

"And you think it may be the same for me?" She asks tentatively.

"I think that you need to find out for yourself, Ms. Researcher"

She swings playfully at his shoulder, hitting it gently.

"That's ‘Princess Researcher’ to you, Sir Assistant!"

His answering laugh is as bright as the shining sun.

* * *

For 15 years, Zelda has lived by a strict schedule. She doesn’t really like that schedule disrupted.

Unless it’s a good disruption, like the surprise trip to Zora’s domain.

They’re sitting atop the waterfall, Mipha in-between them. Zelda’s not sure where she stands concerning the Zora princess since they’d really only interacted a handful of times. She makes an extra effort to be courteous because she knows that Mipha is important to Link.

(It’s hard because the looks the Zora is giving her knight seem to spawn hoards of angry summerwing butterflies in Zelda’s stomach.)

Red fingers swipe through the images on the Sheikah Slate, stopping briefly at each one to marvel.

“These are so lifelike!” the Zora exclaims, “You say that the slate takes them itself? With no need for an artist?”

“Correct,” explains Zelda excitedly, “it captures an image instantaneously, and on occasion will even make a detailed entry into its Compendium. We’re not sure how it works, but it’s quite useful!”

She takes the slate back gently. “Allow me to demonstrate.”

Zelda closes the picture of Lake Kolomo that Mipha had been looking at and pulls up the camera application. In an instant, there’s a perfect picture of the Domain on the screen. She hands the slate back to the other princess, watches her scrutinize the image as though she’s looking for imperfections.

“It’s incredible.” Mipha breathes, visual interrogation finished.

Zelda smiles and accepts the slate back. She resists the urge to squirm, now that she’s run out of things to talk about. The silence may be comfortable or it may be awkward, but Zelda can’t tell. Maybe it’s just awkward for her and comfortable for the two friends to her right?

She’s trying to think of something else to say when Mipha slowly shifts into a crouch. She looks over the edge of the fall (Zelda feels dizzy just watching her) and smiles softly.

“Sidon!” she calls, “Hurry and swim-up here!”

Zelda blinks and chances a look towards the domain below. Sure enough, a tiny red dot stands out against the pale blue water. She’s not really sure how Mipha knew that her brother was down there, and her mind hums with curiosity about the possibilities.

“Mipha...” she begins hesitantly when the red dot doesn’t move, leaning back to the safety of the dam, “perhaps he is still too young to swim up this big waterfall?”

How old is the Prince anyway? Certainly, older than Link or herself, at least in terms of physical years. But how old is he for a Zora? Zelda’s certain that he’s no more than a very small child, given the difference in their biology. She can’t help but feel a little sympathetic, knowing all too well the feeling of being too young to do a task required of you.

(She thinks she sees Link grin out of the corner of her eye)

“One day Princess...” Mipha states as she stands, “I must leave him...to face my fate with Ruta.”

And oh, she’s heard that sentiment before. It’s like a knife to the chest, to be (even indirectly) the cause of it. She had hoped, by finding these Divine Beasts, by preparing so diligently and working so tirelessly that she could prevent any more children from having duty placed upon them by so grim a goodbye. It seems that the price of responsibility hasn’t changed.

Mipha’s smirk is a reminder that she hasn’t said goodbye yet. She gracefully flips over the edge of the waterfall, and the Hylian girl has to stifle a yelp. Zelda gasps as the Zora princess glides on the surface, as though the water were a smooth stone and not a roaring torrent, before diving regally into the water. Zelda turns towards the sound of Link’s laughter, seeing the other Hylian looking over the water as well. He turns a sly look her way.

“Watch.” he signs towards the two red blobs.

At first, Zelda’s not sure what she’s supposed to be seeing until the red blobs merge into one. Then, quick as lightning, the blob skids up the waterfall, jumping ever so often out of the crystal spray. It’s incredible, and Zelda’s awed at the powerful grace that Mipha seems to expel from her every action.

The pair land with a soft  _ plat _ sound, Sidon taking a few steps when he’s put down. His head-tail drags adorably on the ground as he turns towards his sister. Mipha kneels down, almost eye to eye with the younger Zora, and tilts his head up.

(Zelda makes her way over towards Link. She feels like she’s intruding, but knows that if Mipha had wanted this private, she would have left Sidon at the base)

“Sweet Sidon,” Mipha starts lovingly, “should fate ever part us... I’m counting on you to protect our beloved home from harm.”

Mipha smiles sagely, placing her hand on Sidon’s cheek. She rubs her thumb under his eye, pride and adoration obvious despite her serene expression.

“Understood?”

Zelda swears that she sees sparkles in the Prince’s responding smile. His enthusiasm is blinding, optimism of the kind that only the young are capable of producing.

When Mipha sits down facing the Hylian pair, Sidon scrambles into her lap like he belongs there. His sister wraps her arms around his small form, almost instinctively.

(Zelda has to resist taking a picture.)

They sit together, Sidon is anything but shy and asks lots of questions to the Hylians. Relaxed laughter fills the air as the young Prince tells the others a story, and before long Link is tapping Zelda’s shoulder to signal that their allotted time is ending.

“Princess,” Mipha asks as the Hylian stands, “May I ask who the other chosen Champions are?”

“Goron Vigilance, Daruk. Rito Confidence, Revali. Gerudo Spirit, Urbosa.” Zelda recites, “Zora Serenity, yourself, and Hylian Blessing...Link.”

Mipha nods, looking subtly past the younger woman at the Hylian man behind her.

“May the Goddesses go with us all,” she says as a farewell.

(Zelda lingers just a moment as Mipha turns back to Sidon. His eager love and Mipha’s steadfast encouragement strengthen her resolve. She vows that, if it’s at all within her power, they won’t feel the pain of a premature, permanent goodbye.)

* * *

In the (just about) two years since he’s gotten to know her, Link’s figured out the best ways to distract his Princess.

Different scenarios need different strategies, and he’s got a plan for pretty much all of them. Sometimes, when the weight of duty presses too hard on her, all she needs is a smile and a reminder that she’s not alone. When it’s frustration or research-block, a totally separate challenge is required. (Typically, he gets Aryll for those times. His girls seem to speak a totally separate language when they’re together, and something interesting is bound to emerge from any activity they pursue in tandem)

For this kind of turmoil, he thinks that some time away from the castle would be best.

(He knows what day it is, after all.)

The castle is painfully crowded. Urbosa had come up from Gerudo Town for the week, as always, and while he’s seen her be a wonderful comfort, Link has a hunch that the motherly presence may make things worse this time.

(What she really needs is her father to put aside his kingly persona and mourn together with his daughter. But that has a snowball's chance in Death Mountain of happening, and Link’s anger isn’t particularly helpful today.)

(He could use the distraction too.)

So, Link suggests that they camp out for the night at Irch Plains, close enough to the castle that no one can object but far enough away to provide breathing room. Zelda eagerly agrees, and they’re out quick as a skittish lizard.

Seeing her knee-deep in plants, taking pictures and talking faster than he can keep up with, is proof enough that he was right.

“There’s one...Oh! And Another!”

Link looks over her shoulder, trying to keep up with her new discoveries.

“The flowers we have in Hyrule aren’t just beautiful,” she explains, “they’re also quite useful as ingredients for a variety of things!”

Zelda throws him a smile (only slightly strained) over her shoulder. He sticks his tongue out at her playfully and is heartened when she responds in kind.

It’s good for her, he thinks, to have a chance to do what she loves.

She gasps softly as she turns around, lowering the Sheikah slate to her hip and bending down. He follows, crawling the short distance with her until they’re up close together in front of a small blue and white flower.

(Link’s pretty sure it’s a regular lily, but the borderline reverence Zelda views it with keeps his opinions securely sealed)

“This one here is called the Silent Princess.” she breathes, admiration dripping off the words, “It’s a rare endangered species.”

Link gazes at the flower, casting his own sad respect for it up in prayer. Extinction is the way of nature, he knows, but it’s a shame that something of this beauty won’t linger.

A small sniff from beside him turns his gaze towards the princess. Her eyes are glassy, though he can see the wonder in them still. Her gaze seems hundreds of years away, and her fingers tremble slightly as she reaches out to touch the flower.

“Despite our efforts,” she whispers, “we can't get them to grow domestically yet.”

And yes, he remembers. The several pots that had a dedicated space on her desk for years. By the time they’d gotten close, she’d just lost her last batch. He remembers her bursting into tears when he’d offered to go and find more seeds, or a sapling maybe, and not understanding what he’d done wrong.

(It figures that she would fall in love with an endangered species—the combination of challenge, experimentation and hope to restore it would be too much for her soul to resist)

“The Princess can only thrive out here in the wild.”

Oh.

“All that we can hope,” her voice trembles, “is that the species will be strong enough to prosper...on its own.”

_ Oh. _

Her soft smile is at odds with the sadness in her eyes, the strain of her voice, and the tense set of her shoulders. She leans back onto her heels, hands restlessly fidgeting on her knees, and Link thinks maybe he should suggest they go somewhere else.

Until not a half-second later, when something catches her eye.

“Is that what I think it is?!”

She _ lunges,  _ hands outstretched, landing ungracefully on her stomach left of the flower. Her hands occupied, she pushes up onto her elbows and turns to face Link, previous sober musings forgotten.

“Look at this!” she exclaims, scooting towards him with her hands clasped loosely, “I don’t believe it, but I actually  _ caught one! _ ”

Link grins at her excitement, bewildered by the sudden change but more than happy to celebrate...whatever this is... with her.

She rearranges her hands to unveil...a frog?

It blinks up at him.

He blinks down at it.

“Ta-Da!” sings the Princess.

Link tries to smile encouragingly up at her, but he’s...confused.

Zelda is quick to clarify.

“This delicacy is known to have very, very potent effects under the proper circumstances.”

Link huffs a breath, not really sure why that garnered the reaction it did but willing to go along.

“Research from the Castle shows ingesting one of these can actually augment certain abilities,” she informs him rapidly, words almost tumbling over one another.

He doesn’t like where this is going.

“We wouldn’t be in a controlled environment out here,” she gets closer, bouncing the surprisingly complacent frog in her enthusiasm, “but with your level of physical fitness you’d be a perfect candidate for the study!”

“What?!” he signs, squeaking a little as she thrusts the frog towards him. The little demon bounces up at him like it’s in on whatever madness has taken his princess.

“Go on!” she instructs, “Taste it!”

Her knees bump into his, fingertips almost at his lips, eyes wide and eager. Link feels his whole face heat up, right up to his scalp. His eyebrows shoot to his hairline in response to her words and he leans back.

He leans back so far that he falls onto his back, mouth open as the wind is knocked out of him

The Nayru-forsaken  _ frog  _ decides it’s had enough of his insubordination and leaps off the Princess’s hands...

Directly into his open mouth.

Maybe the animal does augment his abilities because Link is  _ sure _ he’s never sat up and spit something out so quickly in his whole life. He levels his Princess with slightly crazed glare, to which she bursts into a very hysterical laughing fit.

(Link would be embarrassed, except that he can still taste the frog.)

When he finishes scraping his tongue with his hands, he finds Zelda still laughing, tears in her eyes and hands crossed over her stomach. She’s passed into the silent phase of laughter, occasionally gasping for air loudly. She points towards the grass a little ways away...

To the frog that is still just sitting there. Staring up at him.

“It's... like it.... wants to know.... how it tasted!” she manages, voice much higher pitched and still filled with hysterics.

He makes a very rude sign at it (to the utter delight of the watching Hylian girl) and it hops away.

Link pouts and he shuffles his way towards Zelda, jutting out his lip and furrowing his eyebrows to look as pitiful as possible. For her part, his Princess bites her lip, still smiling, and regains control of her breathing.

“My Poor Hero.” She teases, lying down in the grass and patting the ground next to her. He lies down where she indicates, and they watch the clouds drift slowly across the sky.

He doesn’t rouse her when the sun starts to set since he doesn’t particularly care if she does her devotions standing up or lying down—so long as they’re not in the water. He doubts the goddesses care either, and if they had, they should have made it clearer. Instead, he starts a fire a good several paces away, conscious of the very fragile endangered flower. Zelda makes her way over as he’s setting up the tent, dinner ready and waiting. She’s still in decent spirits, and dinner is a quiet but happy affair.

...

He’s watching the stars, lying on his bedroll outside the tent. His mind wanders in the silence, free of distraction, and his thoughts wander directly down the path he’d been avoiding for weeks.

His melancholy reflections are interrupted by the sound of footsteps, and something being dragged. He sits up, sword in hand, but he’s greeted by a very shy looking Zelda. She’s got a blanket wrapped around her head and shoulders, one hand clenching it together under her chin, the other dragging her bed-pad behind her. She sways hesitantly on her feet, and while he can’t fully see her face, he’s sure she’s biting her lip the way she does when she’s feeling vulnerable.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she whispers loudly, “could I... stay out here with you for a bit?”

He knows that she won’t be able to make out his hands in the sliver of moonlight (the stars don’t provide enough light, and her night-vision isn’t as good as his) so he makes a show of patting the space next to him. She puts her bed-pad right up against his, lying down so that they’re side-by-side, so close that their shoulders and hips touch.

(He’s grateful for the way the darkness hides his blush and hopes that Zelda can’t feel the happy flock of restless beetles that have taken up residence in his gut)

“My mother used to tell me a story,” she breathes after a few moments of heavy silence, “about the stars.”

Link turns his head to look at her and finds the stars reflected in her emerald eyes. The lines are tight around her face, and he’s so close that he can see dried tear tracks on her cheeks.

(They likely mirror his own)

“She would say,” Zelda continues, her voice soft but steady, “that long ago there was a great war between Hylia and the Spirit that would go on to possess Calamity Ganon. The Spirit, Demise, sought the Triforce, and the three elder Goddesses charged Hylia with protecting it and their people.”

“Demise spread his evil throughout the land, making it inhabitable for the people that would become the Hylians. Because of her great love for them, Hylia gathered the survivors and launched them into the sky on small islands.”

Zelda reaches one hand up and traces a pattern of stars.

“There they stayed until the First Hero was called, and when he’d defeated Demise the Sky People returned to the surface. The Islands remained, becoming stars, as a reminder of Hylia’s love for her people.”

Link feels...oddly warm hearing the story. He turns his gaze towards the sky once again and reflects. That first hero...what had he been like? Had there been a princess? The sword beside him...had that hero used it as well?

(He doesn’t really have a word for the sensation he feels. That of many spirits condensing into one, into  _ him _ , each unique but held together with a common thread. He wonders if Zelda feels something similar.)

“My mother,” he chokes out, compelled to share by her own honesty, “Always said that the Stars were guiding lights.”

He can feel Zelda’s eyes on him, but he can’t turn to look at her. She takes his fidgeting hand and squeezes it gently. He appreciates the soft, unspoken encouragement.

“She...she used to—to—to,” Link lets out a frustrated sigh, “Mum loved talking about navigation. She’s the one who taught me how to find my way by the stars. A-A-A-Aaaaand,” he grinds out, pushing past the emotional stutter through sheer force of will, “she used to say that when...people died they...they lee-ee-eft you clues in the stars.”

“What kind of clues?” Zelda asks, curiosity tempered by the obvious pain in her voice.

Link opens his mouth to talk, but the words won't come. He’s not really surprised; when the stutter makes an appearance it’s normally a sign that his voice is done. He shifts onto his side to find Zelda already on hers, facing him.

“Messages.” he signs, “Sometimes they leave ideas or inspiration. Other times its warnings against doing something stupid.”

Her chuckle dislodges a fresh tear, and he wipes it away with his thumb.

“Mostly though,” he continues, “it’s reminders that they love you. And a reminder not to give up hope, because you’ll be reunited someday.”

She blinks several times, pulling her lips inside her mouth to hold back a sob. Link feels his own tears flow freely as his breathing becomes more and more shallow. They’re matching caricatures of grief—twin shivers that have nothing to do with the cold.

Link isn’t really aware when he opens up his blanket, an invitation for the mourning girl beside him to share his space. Its instinct is what it is, it’s what he does for Aryll when she has a nightmare.

(Or when she’s overcome with grief for a mother she’ll never get to know.)

Zelda takes the invitation without hesitation (it’s what her own mother used to do) and curls towards him, head on his chest. His arms wrap around her, a mutual comfort.

“That was the first time we met, wasn’t it?” she asks brokenly, “At her funeral? A few weeks before my mother died?”

Link makes an affirmative noise, knowing she’ll interpret it correctly.

“Who’d have guessed that of all the things to have in common, the Hero and Princess of Destiny both lost their Mothers within the same month!”

He snorts humourlessly. It’s a grim thought indeed, that this loss connects them. That one of the few things they will always understand about each other is the pain that comes from a parent ripped away too soon.

They cry together, silently, as the stars twinkle above them.

(They fall asleep like that, and when they wake up with the sunrise, it’s with the knowledge that they won't face their hardest trials alone.)

* * *

She’s 5, and she wants to know everything.

Zelda’s content to sit in the middle of the large bed, sandwiched between Mama and Papa. She’s reading them a story about a Princess and all the jobs she does. It’s not as fun as the story about the dragons, but she supposes it’ll do.

(Not every morning can be a dragon morning, as Mama always says.)

“The Princess was be—bel—bellow...”

“Beloved.” Mama prompts with a smile.

“Beloved,” repeats Zelda slowly, feeling the word as it leaves her mouth, “because she was a strong and res...pons...i...ble leader. What does Belove mean Papa?”

“Beloved,” Papa corrects with a smile, “means that the hearts of everyone in the kingdom were filled to the top with love.”

Zelda’s green eyes widen as her Papa explains. The whole kingdom?? Wow!!

“Do you understand why, Little Bird?” asks Mama, tone uncharacteristically serious.

The little princess nods rapidly, a determined spark in her eyes.

“Because the Princess was Responsible. That means that she took her job very seriously and did everything very well, even when she didn’t want to stop playing and go to the party! And she made sure to remember to use her Princess Face, just like me!”

The approving smile on both her parents' faces lights a warm fire in Zelda’s body.

“Very good!” praises Papa, as Mama wraps her up in a tight hug.

“May I ask my question now? Please?” Zelda climbs up into her Mama’s lap, snuggling against the welcoming body.

That was their routine. Zelda had begun to ask questions almost as soon as she could talk, and she was very persistent in her search for information. The king and queen had initially tried to discourage the practice (to the frustration of everyone involved) but soon found that there was a more productive way to teach little Zelda the behaviour that was expected of her. If she became too inquisitive or her questions became unending, they offered her a trade.

The Queen dug out her own books on proper etiquette, and for every lesson Zelda learned, she’d be allowed a question. Any question answered in its entirety to the best of their abilities. She’d picked up many of the expected behaviours that way and was able to put on what she called her “Princess Face” whenever they needed her to. As an added bonus, Zelda loved spending uninterrupted time with her two favourite people, and she seems to realize that she was learning two things for the price of one.

Everyone benefitted, really.

At the answering nod, Zelda reached out towards her mother’s right hand. Gently, she patted the smooth piece of jewelry that rested on her wrist.

“Why do you only have one bracelet?”

Her father scooted closer to the pair, wrapping his arms around the Queen.

“That’s my wedding band,” Mama supplied, “and I only have one because I’m only married to your father.”

“If she had another,” Papa added, “it would mean she had two marriages and two families.”

Little fingers traced the smooth metal band, the pale turquoise braids intermingled with soft pink beads. That her mother had always matched up her jewelry, except for that one prominent piece, had always bothered Zelda. But to learn that it was because she only had one family...well...that made her feel very special.

Until she looked at her father's wrists in dread.

“Papa!” she cried fearfully “You don't have one! Did you lose it?”

The deep bellowing of her father’s laughter did nothing to settle Zelda’s panic. If the bracelet meant that they were Mama’s family, then was Papa not a part of it?

“Not to worry dear one,” Papa reassured, reaching under his shirt, “I have one that’s a little bit different.”

He pulled out a gold chain and fiddled a little bit to free it from beneath his beard. After some maneuvering, he revealed a red leather feather, curled protectively around a bright yellow gemstone.

“This is my wedding band,” he said, unclasping the necklace and handing it carefully to his awestruck daughter.

Up close, Zelda could see the bits of red gem sparkling within the leather. The Yellow gem was curved into a circle, with small bits jutting out and three triangles engraved in the center.

“They’re different?” she questioned once she’d thoroughly examined both accessories.

“A wedding band,” began her mother, “is something special that reflects the person who makes it. It’s meant to remind whoever is wearing it of the maker.”

“So,” continued her father, “I made your mothers. The little beads are the promises I made her when I proposed.”

“When I proposed, I told your father that I wanted him to remember adventure and joy as we became a family. So, I made something that would make sure to remind him.”

Zelda looked at both of the objects in front of her, mouth parted and eyes wide in reverence. She grazed her fingers over the smooth glass beads and the rough side of the leather once more, careful to be as gentle as she could, before slowly handing the necklace back to her father.

It took about two weeks, but Zelda eventually presented both her parents with a small cloth handkerchief, a Z monogrammed into each one with the skill and care that only a child could pull off.

“Now you have something to remember me too!”

(Just over a year later, her mother was buried with that same handkerchief tucked carefully in between her folded hands. Her father carried his in his inner pocket every day for the next twelve years.)

* * *

He’s only been 17 for a few weeks, and being an adult is already hard.

He didn’t think it would be too different, because he’s the same Link he was before. But no, there’d been a small celebration with his Father, Aryll and Zelda, a larger formal celebration with Zelda and the King, and then everything changed.

Father had pulled him aside and given him a long lecture about “Proper Conduct” that had been horribly embarrassing. Aryll’s teasing had been expected: Link took immense satisfaction in responding to ‘Old Man’ with ‘Little Whippersnapper’ and telling his sister about ‘when he was her age’.

King Rhoam had flagged him down one evening while Zelda was doing her prayers and informed him that he would be making the betrothal official quite soon, which was both terrifying and... no. No, it was purely terrifying.

The biggest change had been with Zelda herself. Not in the way that he was afraid of, she didn’t avoid him or treat him particularly differently. But there was something...he couldn’t put his finger on it.

It hadn’t started after his birthday, not really. He’d probably just begun to notice after his... conversation with Father. But he’d noticed her start to...linger. She’d begun to give him a hug in the morning before prayer, and in the evening before they went their separate ways. She’d begun to sit next to him instead of across from him when they travelled. She’d suggested more trips that would make it so that it was just the two of them, and then walk so close that their shoulders would bump accidentally.

Link’s not complaining, but he is confused.

He also doesn’t feel the need to bring it up at all. He supposes that he should since it’s probably his duty as the “adult” to put a stop to such “unbecoming” behaviour. But Zelda’s incredibly careful to only act differently when they’re sure they’re alone, and Link isn’t one to deprive her of her simple joys.

(That he doesn’t want it to change isn’t something he’s really willing to admit just yet.)

He’s caught up in his thoughts, looking into his reflection in the water as though it could give him any tips on bearing the sudden addition of the responsibility of being an adult on top of everything else he has to be. He’s not so lost within himself that he doesn’t hear Aryll come up behind him or miss how she leans against him when she sits down.

She seems tired, eyes nearly closed as she plays with one of the gold bracelets on her wrist. Her skin is starting to settle from its previous red to a subtle tan, for with Link is simultaneously jealous and relieved.

“How was the city?” he asks aloud, confident that no one else is at the oasis at this time.

(For whatever reason, Aryll always seems to draw his voice out. She calls it her superpower.)

“Wonderful,” the girl breathes, grey eyes snapping up to his, “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s so different from home, quieter but also just as busy. All the other girls—the ones my age—loved my hair? It was weird.”

Link smiles down at her, and tugs playfully on one of her braids. She bats him away with a grin. He’s not really sure how it happened, but despite his best efforts Urbosa had learned about Aryll. They’d got on like a house on fire—two kindred spirits for all that they were different races, ages and statuses. The Gerudo chief had almost immediately requested that they visit Gerudo town, and Aryll had talked of nothing else for weeks. Father had taken some convincing—he was always a little cautious about letting his little girl too far out of his sight—but when Zelda revealed that she needed to visit to check on Vah Naboris, which meant that Link would be there and with them almost the whole time, he’d relented.

Zelda and Aryll had spent the next week preparing. Link spent it anticipating the mischief that was sure to come.

“Zelda kept introducing us as sisters,” Aryll continues with a smile, “and people kept calling me ‘Princess Aryll’. There was a big festival, with a huge feast and everything. It wasn’t as good as your cooking, but it was still really good.”

He snorts at her praise but doesn’t refute the compliment.

“Then...” Aryll hesitates, her body tensing against his, “Lady Urbosa said she had an announcement to make. She said that...that Zelda and I were... I don't think I can pronounce it right. Anyway, everyone cheered and was really happy, and Zelda got kinda weird. So, I asked her what the word meant, cause I figured that that had to do with whatever happened...”

She takes a deep breath and looks down at the water.

“Zelda said that Lady Urbosa had made us her honorary children? She said that it was like being children of spirit with her? It didn’t make a lot of sense, but Zelda said that it was...it meant that she respected our mothers and didn’t want to replace them, but also wanted to establish a connection with us.”

“Oh.” Link replies, not really sure what to do with that information. Their mother was always a sensitive topic.

“It was nice.” Aryll states, “It felt like I had a new family without having to leave you and Father, I guess.”

He releases the breath he’d been holding and tugs Aryll against him in a side hug.

“You know that we’ll always be here, Little Sister,” he says, voice heavy with emotion.

“You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried, Big Brother!”

They sit in comfortable silence for a long moment, watching the sun start to dip beneath the sand. Link is filled with gratitude to the Gerudo chief, for everything she’s done for his girls. He wonders if there’s anything he can do to express it and resolves to talk to Zelda before they leave.

“Link?” Aryll asks sleepily.

“Hmm?”

“When you propose to Zelda, can I help you make the band?”

He blinks several times, looking down sharply at the young girl beside him.

“Where did that come from?” he asked, startled.

“Because,” she yawns, “I want to be part of your new family too.”

Link’s vision swims, and he blinks furiously to stop the tears before they fall. He hasn’t really thought about crafting his wedding band—he’d been preoccupied with the looming shadow of doom. (Well, he knows he wants it to be a ring. And the materials he wants to use. And the colours. He’d maybe sketched a few designs. But really, he hasn’t thought about it seriously!) He hadn’t thought...of course Aryll would be worried—he’s hardly been able to spend time with her since he became the Princess’s appointed knight! Not like they used to, just the two of them. She’d been so grown up about it, he’d forgotten that she was only 10.

When he brings himself back to the present, he notices her gray eyes staring determinedly into his. She looks like she’s going to fall asleep at any moment, shoulders dropping and fingers still. Her blinks are long, but she pries her eyes open with a fierce determination.

“Of course,” he says finally, scooping her up to take her back to the inn, “you’re going to be a part of my family until the day I die.”

She snuggles up against him, head nestling into his shoulder and arms tightening around his neck. She’s almost too big to be held like this, but what’s the point of all his strength if he can’t carry his little sister?

“Good,” she mumbles, “‘cause Zelda said she’d kill you otherwise. And I already shaped the gemstone.”

* * *

The whirring was what caught her attention.

She'd just finished recording the...results from her recent trip to the Spring of Courage in her Devotion-Specific journal (page after page after Nayru-forsaken page of failures) and was planning on...doing something else.

It didn’t matter, so long as it wasn’t about her powers Zelda honestly couldn’t care less about what the rest of the day held.

Her father had decided that the pair of Hylians had spent enough time in lessons almost a year ago and had...suggested that Zelda spend her newly acquired free time seeking her sealing power. That he hadn’t made it a command, leaving just enough wiggle room for her to continue to research the ancient technology, was enough of a reason for her to throw herself to the task.

She was determined to succeed, one way or another.

So, she’d forced herself to stay in the water of the castle spring until her legs were numb. She'd started waking up at midnight to pray (Link had been a trooper as soon as he found out. He'd arrived nightly, a cup of spicy tea and a cloak ready without fail). Twice a month, she travelled to each of the Sacred Springs in turn and spent a few days in meditation and devotion. Her every waking moment was spent with either the Divine Beasts, the Guardians, or in prayer.

At Link’s (pleaded) request, she’d promised to take an hour a day to do something non-calamity related. It wasn’t easy by any means, but Zelda’s more than mature enough to admit that it is probably the only thing keeping her sane.

That’s how she finds herself in the walkway between her private rooms, long blue gown providing warm protection against the chill air when the clicking of gears and the mechanical sound of moving metal snaps her out of her thoughts.

She runs to the wall, not caring how undignified she looks (there’s no one here but Link anyway) and gazes down excitedly. Sure enough, Robbie is down in the clearing with a fully functional Guardian.

Zelda taps her fingers on the stone excitedly, leaning as far forward as she can.

“Incredible...” she breathes, watching the Guardian respond to whatever command Robbie had given it and walking forward with him, “We’re at a point now where we can actually control them.”

And oh, she wants to scream. To jump around and run and declare their progress to each corner of Hyrule.

She settles for leaning back, cheeks warm with joy.

“At the current rate, we’ll soon know all we need to know about the Guardians and the Divine beasts!”

The urge to dance is almost too strong to ignore. She looks at Link instead, hoping (knowing) that he’ll understand how momentous this is.

“And,” exclaimed the Princess, “should Ganon ever show it’s face again, we’ll be well-positioned to defend ourselves!”

Link doesn’t smile outwardly. He rarely does when there’s the threat of someone seeing him emote, but Zelda sees the sparks in his blue irises. The way that his fingertips twitch, and the slight movement of his eyebrows that she’s learned to mean that he is just as happy as she is. Or that he’s happy to see her happy.

They’re both happy, and that’s all that matters to Zelda. Despite her recent failure, it seems that things are looking up! If they continue making progress like this, they may not even  _ need _ her power—the Guardians and Beasts were meant to destroy Ganon, not merely seal him away for future generations to deal with. They could put a stop to it once and for all, and make sure that no one ever had to live with another prophecy of doom.

The sound of the door behind her opening doesn’t really register in her brain, and Zelda doesn’t notice Link’s eyes go wide, or his fingers stop their tiny movements.

Her only warning is when the boy in front of her drops to his knees, head bowed, the perfect picture of reverence.

There is only one person he would do that for.

“What are you doing here Zelda?” booms a voice from behind her.

The Hylian Princess isn’t sure if the feeling of whiplash comes from how fast she turns around, or the sudden change of her emotions.

“I...” Zelda starts, searching for an answer that will wipe the disappointed expression off her father's face, “I was assessing the results of the experiment with the Guardians.”

It comes out in a rush, and she curses herself internally. It’s only her father, there’s no reason for her heart to be hammering this fast, or her breath to be so suddenly shallow. But...he’s so angry, and she’s almost positive she knows where this conversation is going, and she wants to show him how seriously she’s been working. If she’s going to do that, it has to be  _ before _ he asks her about her trip to the spring.

“These pieces of ancient technology could be quite useful against the—”

“I know that!” interrupts King Rhoam, “They are essential to Hyrule’s future, and our research demands that we keep a close eye on them.”

Zelda realizes her chance (if she had one) is over. Her father is determined to berate her, it seems, and she lowers her head to take the correction gracefully.

(Some part of her thinks that maybe she deserves it.)

“However,” continues the King, and the sharpening edge of his tone makes Zelda’s face grow hot, “as the princess, you currently have a crucial unfulfilled responsibility to your kingdom.”

Does he think she doesn’t know that? Does he think she’s forgotten? She’s only wearing a small tiara, but most days it feels like a clamp around her head. Zelda fights to control her breathing, working on beating down the blush overtaking her face.

“Let me ask you once more…When will you stop treating this as some sort of childish game?”

...what?

...What?!

The Princess looks up at the King, and the stern face looking back at her is not the one she remembers from her childhood. It makes her want to cry.

(She will not. She will not become the child he is accusing her of being.)

“I’m doing everything I can,” her voice betrays her, cracking with emotion, I’ll have you know that I just recently returned from the Spring of Courage where I offered every ounce of my prayers to the Goddess—”

“And now you’re here, wasting your time.”

Zelda’s vision swims dangerously.

“You need to be dedicating every moment you have to your training!”

She stops breathing.

“You must be single-minded in unlocking the power that will seal Calamity Ganon away!”

“I already am!” Zelda explodes desperately, “Don’t you see—there’s nothing more I can do!”

Her heart seems to be trying to escape her chest and the noise pounds in her ears.

She doesn’t understand, how can he not see...

“My hope... My hope is that you—” and she can’t look him in the eyes. She knows the answer she’ll get but Zelda needs to ask! She needs to be useful, to help, to work!

The words tumble out so fast that she’s not entirely sure she speaks them at all.

“My hope is that you’ll allow me to contribute here in whatever way I can.”

“No more excuses, Zelda!” roars the King, which doesn’t surprise her at all, “Stop running away from your duty. As the king, I forbid you to have anything to do with these machines from this moment on and command you to focus on your training.”

She’d been expecting that too. It’s a fitting punishment, for all that the world loses its colour when she hears it.

Zelda’s body is lead, as heavy as the Guardian still moving around below her. She suddenly understands Link’s choice to not show his emotions, to not speak. Certainly, had she not spoken up—

“Do you know how the gossip mongers refer to you?” spits her father.

The question shocks her. Mother had been extremely strict about gossip relating to the family—good or evil. She’d tolerated her father’s curiosity, but Zelda has clear memories of not being allowed to know what the kingdom thought of either of its female royals. Out of respect for her mother and herself, Zelda had refused to look into her reputation.

There is no way that she’s going to tell her father that. In fact, Zelda thinks that maybe a vow of silence might be the best course of action.

“They are out there at this moment whispering amongst themselves…” hisses her Father when the silence had stretched too long.

Zelda doesn’t want to hear it.

“That you are the heir to a throne of nothing…”

She’s trembling so hard she’s scared she’ll fall.

“Nothing but failure.”

Something snaps. Something snaps on the inside. She feels it. A quick break, like a twig. Or maybe bone. Her ears fill with water, and her vision darkens in a way that’s new and entirely unsettling, and she can’t feel her hands or feet. For a moment, everything is quiet and dark.

And then...

Then it’s loud. Everything is loud and bright and... too much. Too much. Too much. Too Much. Her breath is fire, the soft wool of her dress is knives on her skin, the slight breeze a torrent of cold that she can’t overcome.

So Zelda just...leaves. She finds the piece of her that’s come loose and pours everything she can into it —everything that’s not writhing invisibly with pain —and leaves.

It feels like floating, like she’s looking through the Sheikah Slate at a photo she’d taken previously.

Except that the brutally cold voice of her (The Princess’s) father is saying “It is woven into your destiny that you prove them wrong” and she knows, somewhere in the part of her mind still connected, that it’s a follow-up. That it’s meant to be encouraging in a challenging kind of way.

There’s an echo of pain there, because The Princess is still feeling the effects of what the King has said, and the challenge seems more like a desperate plea. The Princess thinks that she’ll probably fail either way, and Zelda tries to escape further from the pain.

The Princess says “Yes, I understand” when the King asks, and Zelda is faintly content when he walks back into her room.

(Everything is...less, here in this strange bubble. Sounds are muted, colours are dull, and emotions are mere echoes. Nothing can touch her here.)

Between the two of them, there’s a flicker. Someone is aware of the Knight behind her (Link. Safe.) standing up. She knows he stands up because she can hear it, so it must be The Princess.

And Zelda doesn’t really want to deal with the Knight (Link. Safe.) and the Sword (why does he get to be successful when I’m a failure) right now, so she pulls back even further from The Princess and hides.

Time must pass, because The Princess is in their room, and so is the Knight (Link. Safe.). They’re on the floor, back against the bed and he’s flapping his hands around.

(Zelda recognizes the sign for ‘Okay’, and the questioning set of his eyebrows. But she’s not okay, and she has to reconnect to respond, so she doesn’t.)

Then she guesses more time passes, because she’s alone. And it’s kind of scaring her, this separation. With no distraction, her pain and emotion start to sneak up the tendrils connecting Zelda to The Princess, which defeats the purpose of escaping. And if she’s alone, then she can feel without consequence, so there’s no real reason to stay.

Except she can’t leave.

She’s trapped in the bubble and she can't get out.

She doesn’t know how.

She doesn’t even remember how she got here.

Did she die? Is that it?

Is this what death feels like?

No, no... Mother hadn’t been able to sit when she died. And whoever she is now is still sitting.

Maybe she’s in the process of dying. Not quite there yet, but soon. 

But she can’t die!

She can't die a  _ failure _ !!

She can't!

She can't!!

She can't, she can't, she can't she can’t shecantshecantshecant—

_ COLD! _

Zelda comes back to herself (kind of, mostly) because suddenly her hands are  _ freezing _ . They’re...in a bowl of ice water?

...Why are they in a bowl of ice water?

“Zel?”

Green eyes move slowly, shifting their gaze from the mystery of the ice to the concerned blue eyes not far away. She blinks up at him, once. Twice.

“You back?” Link’s voice trembles, and if Zelda didn’t know better, she’d say he sounded scared.

She wants to nod. But she doesn’t quite know how yet. He seems to understand.

“That’s okay.” he assures, and it’s a relief that she doesn’t have to be all the way ’back’ yet, “That’s okay. But Zel, I need you to breathe, okay? Can you do that?”

And at first, she thinks “of course!” because she knows how to  _ breathe _ , but then the breath won’t come no matter how hard she tries, and she’s drowning in the open air. She shakes her head frantically, feeling the panic rise like bile inside her.

“Hey, Zelda. Zelda?” she can’t focus on him, “Zelda?!” she’s really trying but she can’t, and she can’t even  _ tell him _ .

Link takes her hands out of the water and puts them gently on her lap. He gets up to move the bowl somewhere...else. She looks down at her hands and oh...there’s crescent-shaped bruises from where her fingernails had dug into her palms. Link must notice the hitch in her breath because he carefully picks her hands back up and holds them. He squeezes once, twice, and waits. After a moment, he does it again. And Again. Until she can look back up into his eyes and hold his gaze.

“We’ll do it together, okay?” he says softly, and he moves so that their foreheads are touching. She can feel his breath, and it hurts where it hits her skin, but she doesn’t pull away.

“Breathe in with me,” he instructs gently, “then I’ll squeeze your hand. When I do that, I want you to hold your breath, and when I squeeze again, let it out really slowly. I’ll do it too, and we’ll take as long as you need.”

He pulls her back, patiently breathing with her and staying close. It takes her a while to figure it out, but having the contact helps. After what feels like an eternity Zelda comes fully back to herself.

She drained, like she just ran around the castle with a deactivated Guardian strapped to her back. The day is barely half over, and she needs to go pray, but the idea of moving (especially to do...that...) makes her want to throw up.

“Easy now,” Link whispers, moving so that he’s at her side but never really losing contact with her. She wants to ask him what in Nayru’s name just happened to her, and how he’d knows what to do. (These...things have happened before, but never this badly. She’s never needed someone else’s help, and it scares her.) She wants to tell him to leave—to get away before her streak of failures poisons him too. She wants to beg him to stay, and to keep her safe from the monster she’s sure is just outside. She wants to cry and scream and throw something.

She doesn’t say any of that. She physically can’t. But her Link...he gets it.

He pulls her even closer, so she’s almost on top of him, wrapping her in his strong arms. Gently, he starts rubbing small circles onto her back. The movement relaxes her over sensitive skin, and the feeling of knives and fire recedes.

“It’ll be okay,” he murmurs into her hair, “you’re going to be okay.”

(She thinks that maybe if he keeps saying it, it’ll come true.)

* * *

He's is livid.

He tosses the remains of the training dummy to the floor and wishes that there was someone around who could match his skill enough to give him a real workout.

He needs to be calm and collected tomorrow, and what he’s doing currently isn’t clearing his head.

Not two days after their... unfortunate talk, the king had sent a messenger to inform them that it was time to introduce Hyrule to its Champions and make their betrothal public. There would be a ball with the noble families, dignitaries, and other “important people” of all six races.

And it was to take place on Zelda’s 16th birthday.

Link can’t think of a worse present for his princess than being confronted with all of her responsibilities and burdens.

But nevertheless, it was happening. There was nothing that either young Hylian could do about it. They’d had a very awkward conversation about how to explain their situation—typically the betrothed man didn’t have the keys to his fiancée’s room, nor did a courting couple typically spend hours of unchaperoned time together. They’d also been noticeably young, even for a princess, and had been betrothed for significantly longer than average.

(They didn’t bring up the fact that neither had proposed officially, and Zelda’s lack of band was sure to be noticed. A man’s band is typically hidden, so as not to be used as against him in battle, but a woman's was meant to be shown. And as the man of the relationship, Link is supposed to propose first as a way to ‘lay claim’ to his choice of bride.)

(But he’d never really felt comfortable with that idea, and he didn’t want to rush or pressure Zelda into anything. They hadn’t had the time to talk about their future together anyway, not with the shadow around them growing ever darker.)

In the end, Link had suggested they just...not answer any questions about their relationship. Zelda was still underage, so they could get away with being a little bit cheeky and avoiding giving out information. His Princess was scandalized by the suggestion, and she'd agreed immediately.

With just over a day now until the event, the castle was bustling with an energy he'd never seen before. It was like they were gearing up to battle, but instead of fortifying they were polishing, and instead of invading monsters they were preparing for invited guests.

He'd prefer to be heading out on a raid. Then he'd have an outlet for all the raw emotion he'd been experiencing for the last two weeks.

The timing was almost too coincidental for Link's liking. It made sense to celebrate many things at once, but it almost felt like King Rhoam was further punishing Zelda by starting the official campaign of Ganon's defeat on her birthday. A month ago, Link would have assumed that it was an attempt to tie his daughter to success, but now he's not so sure.

He sighs and decides to head back to the kitchens where he'd left Zelda, Urbosa and Aryll. They'd promised to stay put since Link had to go for his final fitting of his modified Royal Guard's uniform. (It had ended early, thank Farore, and he'd spent his limited free time trying to relive his pent-up energy.) He didn't trust the mischievous trio to stay out of trouble, but he expects them to be back by now.

Sure enough, he finds the Gerudo chief, Hylian Princess, and small child sitting exactly where they were when he left them, smiles overly innocent. There are stray bits of hay poking out of Aryll's hair, and Zelda has a splotch of what looks like polish on her cheek.

He decides he doesn't want to know but raises his left eyebrow to show that he knows they've been up to something.

(He picks out the hay and wipes the polish off, to show that he approves)

The actual ball isn’t until tomorrow night, but there’s something important that must be done first.

Daruk arrives just before noon, he and his entourage rolling in jovially. The kitchen staff had scrambled to find them suitable rocks for their lunch (they apparently weren't expecting to have to feed them until dinner) so Zelda graciously invited them to join her for her devotion as a distraction.

The Gorons aren't known for their quiet natures, but they try to whisper with Urbosa not too far away. It takes less than ten minutes for them to decide that they'd better go "help" with the lunch preparation.

Mipha arrives a few hours after with two dozen Zora. She greets Link and Zelda warmly, hugs Aryll gently, and goes to rest after the journey.

Revali arrives with a huff and doesn't greet anyone. He glares off to the side while the Rito chief talks to Zelda.

(Link has half a mind to challenge him right then and there, just to wipe that look off his break. Surely Revali would be a decent challenge, and _ Link _ would certainly feel better.)

It doesn’t take long for the formalities to finish, and the Rito troupe head off to their specialized chambers to rest from their journey. It’s perfect timing, because Link knows that Zelda will be getting anxious about going so long without praying.

He’s sure that her dress isn’t even dry yet, but he can see the tension creeping up her spine and the way her eyes dart towards her room. It’s ridiculous, but he knows that trying to discourage her will only make it worse: Zelda thinks that this is what she needs to do and so he’ll support her until he can figure out something better to suggest.

He keeps his distance as they walk , just a few paces behind her (there are too many eyes here, and he’s sure that they’re watching him). They don’t exchange a single word, which is typical while they’re in the palace, but Link finds that he misses her chatter. Zelda is rarely silent unless it’s crucial, and even then, she tends to make small noises. Squeaks or humming to show her mood, mumbling her thoughts as she processes them or tapping out rhythms on her arms or thighs. If she can’t speak, for whatever reason, her hands are a-flutter—signing so fast that she often misspells the word or mixes up the order of her sentences. Everything she does is loud, from her posture to her attitude to her enthusiasm.

The girl walking in front of him is quieter than he is, and he...doesn’t like it. There’s nothing he can do, except quietly support her and lend her strength.

She’ll need it for the ceremony happening in a few hours, perhaps even more than for the ball tomorrow.

After the first hour standing vigil as she prays, Link starts to actually worry. Not about Zelda, since he can’t worry and solve at the same time and he’s working on a solution right now, but about himself.

Somehow, that he was the focus of this particular event hadn’t really registered until it was upon him.

Sure, he’d  _ known _ . He’d been told, and Zelda had gifted him his champions tunic yesterday. He’s literally wearing it now, the soft blue fabric rustling gently around his shoulder in the breeze.

(“You have no idea,” she’d said in response to his shocked expression, “how hard it was to keep this a secret. You’re so good at your job, I was almost worried it wouldn’t be done in time!”)

He’s been so intent on making sure his Princess has been okay that he’d pretty much forgotten. But he remembers now. As if there weren't enough problems in his life, as if there aren’t  _ enough _ eyes constantly watching him!

Why it’s necessary to make him an ‘official Champion’ is honestly beyond him.

He’d passed his trial years ago, hadn’t that been enough? The sword itself had chosen and called him, Hylia had tested his strength, what good would elegant words and pompous nonsense do? He’d walked around the entire kingdom for years with the thing strapped to his back, in the company of royalty! Who was this even really for??

Zelda comes out of her prayer time looking crestfallen, as she always does these days, and takes the offered cloak from him without so much as a glance. He’s grateful she doesn’t seem to notice that he’s breathing so shallowly, or the clamminess of his hands. It’s almost a relief when she ends up taking some extra time to warm up and change, the fancier blue dress taking some time to do on her own, except that if they’re late...

Link’s never thrown up in public to his memory, but if they end up being late in front of all the Champions, he thinks he might.

He forces back a shudder thinking about the other Champions. He supposes it’s fair that they bear witness to his ‘promotion’, since he’d witnessed all of theirs, but he doesn’t like it. Not even the thought of Mipha's support is comforting, for all that she's dear to him. Daruk’s natural acceptance, Urbosa's protectiveness and Revali’s indifference aren’t enough to ease his worries either.

...

They arrive at the Sacred Grounds precisely on time, which does nothing for Link’s nerves. Everyone is there but Revali, who arrives precisely late enough to show that he hadn’t wanted to come but not technically be rude. The Knight would be upset at the Rito Warrior, except that his vision has started to tilt and sway.

(Thank Farore he doesn't have to speak)

“Sir Link,” commands the heavy voice of the Princess, “join me and kneel.”

He follows her to the center of the structure and kneels on Farore’s symbol. It’s not really required of him, but he needs his Goddess’s grace and favour to get through this. The stone is cold despite the unusually warm winter, and the cool sensation is welcome against the heat of his skin. Link sneaks a peek at his Princess, who gives him a tight-lipped smile of encouragement. He returns it, equally strained.

Neither of them has the strength to give, but they’ll share it regardless.

* * *

Her first moments as a 16-year-old are spent waist-deep in freezing water.

She's tired, physically, and emotionally. The ceremony earlier had been draining—she really hadn't thought that inducting Link into the champions would take so much out of her. Perhaps it was because she was now the only member of their party who hadn't proven themselves. Or maybe it was the not-so-subtle discussion of the elder champions behind them.

Either way, it had been horrible.

Zelda shivers in the water, flexing her fingers and wiggling her numb toes. She'll have to get out soon, but a few more minutes could be the difference between success and failure.

Maybe.

... probably not, but she has to try.

There's a rustling sound behind her, which she recognizes as Link's contemplative shuffling. In a few moments, he'll call out to her, gently asking if she's ready to come out, and hovering nervously at the edge of the water.

She'd rather stay in until she awakens her power or perishes in the cold, but that wouldn't be fair to him.

Ultimately, Zelda decides that she's done enough for tonight. To her knowledge, Hylia doesn't demand she sacrifice her toes in offering, and that's all that’s going to happen at this rate.

She actually fumbles with her door, which is just another wound to her addled soul. If it were anyone but Link behind her, she thinks she would have cried.

He stops her before she goes in, which is odd. For a fleeting moment, she's scared that he's going to tell her that she's failed too many times and that he's going to find someone else to help him in the quest against Ganon.

(The thought doesn't last. Link has seen her fail more than anyone else except the Goddesses themselves, and he stays anyways.)

"When you're changed," he signs with uncharacteristic hesitancy, "may I come in?"

Zelda tilts her head and squints at the man in front of her. His questioning expression is different, although maybe it's just that they haven't had a chance to put aside their 'palace personas' and be themselves recently. 

Either way, she trusts Link with her life. Letting him into her room may seem scandalous to an outside observer, but she nods anyway.

When she opens the door, Link has somehow already gotten into  _ his _ nightclothes and has procured a small bag seemingly out of nowhere. He strides into the room, puts the backpack down, and runs right up the stairs that lead to her study.

She’s sure she’s never been more confused in her life.

He comes back down, silent as the grave, holding their bedrolls. His grin is shy, but his eyes are so full of life and energy that Zelda is sure he must have hit his head on something. Or maybe he’s delirious from the cold?

“Fire?” he asks one-handed, ignoring her bewilderment.

“Um...sure?” she responds and goes to light the fire in her fireplace. It takes her a couple of tries since her fingers are still numb and she’d only learned how to light a fire a couple of months ago. By the time she’s finished, Link is sitting at the foot of her bed, a wooden crate overturned to make a small table, a scrap of yellow fabric draped over it as the tablecloth.

“Have a seat, Your Majesty.” he signs, teasing her good-naturedly.

(His eyes are hesitant, and his smile is still strained. What in Nayru’s name is going on?)

Zelda does as she’s asked once again, joining her Knight on the other side of the makeshift table.

“What’s all this about?”

“Close your eyes first.”

The Princess glares at him suspiciously, too familiar with mischief to obey right away. She trusts Link with her life, yes, but she knows that he has a playful spirit buried deep down.

They’re briefly at an impasse—blue eyes meeting green in the stalemate of the ages. They’re both incredibly stubborn, and she does not want to back down.

Her curiosity overrides her pride, so with a dramatic sigh and an eye-roll, Zelda covers her face with her hands. As soon as she can’t see, there’s shuffling in the space before her. Something metal is placed on the table, then several thumps that sound like glass? More metal sounds, like small pieces of metal are hitting each other, then silence. She starts to open her eyes, but she’s barely twitched her hands when—

“No peeking!”

Then there’s the sound of Link’s boots, which she knows he could disguise but must want her to hear. Something heavy drops and rolls and the Hylian girl can absolutely hear her Knight scrambling around after it. He comes back, the gentle footfalls coming closer, and what sounds like the same heavy thing is placed on the table. The last thing she hears is the sound of a match being struck and then blown out.

“Okay,” Link bids, “You can look now.”

When Zelda opens her eyes, she almost wants to close them again. Surely, she’s dreaming, and she’ll wake up any second and it’ll all be gone. She blinks several times, just in case, and when everything in front of her stays exactly as they are, a warmth begins to blossom.

In front of her is a small cake, covered in white frosting and decorated with wildberries. To the right, two plates, two cups and assorted silverware. To the left...

It’s a small orb, covered in grey-brown hexagons. A warm orange glow leaks through the cracks, with the panels down the middle removed so that she can see the pulsing energy inside. There seems to be a... lump on one side, a tiny blue depression at its top.

It’s clearly ancient technology, and Zelda has no idea how he managed to get it.

“Happy Birthday Zel.” Link says softly, sincerity coating his hesitant voice.

She doesn’t know what to say. The warmth in her chest spreads, and her breath catches in her throat. Her fingers twist in the hem of her nightgown, mind too foggy to figure out how to express her emotion in either of the languages they share.

He must get it anyway because he serves her a heaping slice of cake.

Somehow, it’s like the last two weeks didn’t even happen. Within minutes, she’s cuddled up next to him, soaking up the contact. They’re laughing and joking with each other as though they don’t have the weight of the world on their shoulders. Link finishes most of the cake, which Zelda finds absolutely hilarious, and she’s tinkering with the ancient device almost immediately. Here in the safety of his company, Zelda has no issue explaining every theory of the technology as it pops into her head.

It is the middle of the night, so once she’s warm and full it doesn’t take long for her eyelids to start to droop. She holds on as long as she can, but after maybe two hours of blessed leisure, her ever-watchful, mother hen of a fiancé catches her yawning.

(He looks tired too, now that she thinks about it. He must have needed this levity as much as she did.)

Zelda helps him clean up, which mostly just consists of wiping things off and putting them outside. After a bit of deliberation, she asks Link to keep the sphere. He won’t be in trouble for having it, and she can tinker and play with it anytime her father isn’t around, between prayers.

They’re half asleep, and somehow, they ended up on her bed. Her dutiful knight, ever respectful of her boundaries, is practically falling off the edge in an attempt to keep the proper space between them.

She finds she doesn’t like that at all.

“If it makes you feel better,” offers the Princess, “I’ll go under the covers, and you can be on top, but under the blankets you brought. That way...” she hesitates, “that way neither of us has to be alone?”

It takes him a moment; she can practically see the wheels turning behind his eyes. Zelda bites her lip and tries to look as endearingly pleading as she possibly can.

Hopefully, Ganon doesn’t have puppy eyes as powerful as hers, or Hyrule won't stand a chance.

His smile betrays his true emotions even as he sighs, and she tucks herself in while he grabs his blankets off the ground. They’re facing each other, blankets to their chins, close enough that Zelda can feel his breath on her face. Link’s eyes sparkle a brilliant blue in the dimming light of the dying embers, slightly covered by his long hair. She brushes back his bangs, ignoring her blush in favour of holding his gaze. A flock of summerwing butterflies flutters around inside her, but it’s a surprisingly pleasant sensation. The warmth tugs at the corners of her mouth, and she lets the smile bloom. Somehow this feels...right. She imagines what life will be like after the Calamity, when she and Link can be together without the heavy expectation of being saviours. She’s so excited for the little things—to hold hands as they walk down the hall or joke openly with each other. 

He smiles at her sleepily and arches an eyebrow as a silent inquiry.

“I just...” she answers, “I was thinking. About the future.”

His other eyebrow follows, and he makes an inquisitive noise.

“I... I’m so glad you’re in my life Link. Truly. I don't...”

She snuggles closer to him, a difficult task with the blankets in the way. Link closes the tiny gap, wrapping an arm around her best he can.

There’s a heated moment where they just...look at each other. It feels to Zelda as though a thousand words pass between their eyes. It’s awkward but enjoyable and there’s nowhere she’d rather be. His eyebrows shift slightly, and Din help her if his silent question is what she’s hoping for.

She nods in case it is. (She’s certain it is.)

Very gently, his lips meet hers.

The kiss is short and innocent. Fireworks don’t spark over their heads; Zelda doesn’t feel as though her whole world is different. There’s no huge, life-changing revelation about herself, or him, or them.

Instead, he pulls back, apple-red and smiling tiredly. Her face is warm, and the butterflies in her stomach flutter through her body and fill it with contentment. She giggles girlishly, exhaustion finally overwhelming her and forcing her eyelids closed. His soft snores lull her to sleep, and right as consciousness leaves her Zelda recognizes the feeling of hope blossom in her heart.

At that moment, she’s closer to Hylia than she’s been in the last 9 years.

* * *

He had thought yesterday’s ceremony would be the worst event of his life, but no.

Normally, Link didn’t mind large events. Surprisingly, he found that even with the Master Sword it was easy to blend into the faceless mass of the crowd. Or, at the very least, be forgotten and looked over once a juicier scandal was revealed. Travelling with Zelda had made that even more true—his princess drew all the attention, and he was content to sit in her shadow. On the contrary, small events meant that he would be noticed and potentially remembered. The smaller the size of the party the more likely it was that someone would eventually try and strike him up for conversation, and then remember him if they saw him again.

So, he really hadn’t thought much of the ball, considering the guest list was so large. Members of all six races would be coming together in celebration for the first time in decades, the princess and four other champions (not to mention the oddities that were Purah and Robbie) would be there to act as a buffer between him and any curious attendees—it seemed like the perfect shield to hide behind.

What he hadn’t counted on was that the betrothal would be the biggest news.

In Link’s mind, the start of a campaign against the most ancient evil to ever exist was much more newsworthy than his personal life. It was much more pressing as well. So much so, that he’d assumed the rest of the kingdom would sweep his promotion under the rug until Ganon wasn’t a threat. Which meant that he wouldn’t have to deal with very much added scrutiny for the foreseeable future.

(After all, no one could criticize his abilities with the sword, nor challenge his position as Champion. Not with the combined blessing of the Goddesses and the King.)

Thank Nayru for his father’s warning.

He’d taken the younger man aside a few hours before the ball, asking another member of the King’s Guard to watch over Zelda.

“Link,” stated Father’s gruff voice, “tonight you are to be presented not as a knight, nor as Farore’s chosen one, but as the future Prince.”

Link had nodded slowly, waiting for further instructions.

“Many of the dignitaries and nobles...they don’t understand battle like you and I do,” continued Father, placing one large hand on Link’s shoulder, “and they... The Calamity isn’t real to them. They don’t understand the real danger to their lives. They haven’t seen how the numbers of monsters have risen; they can’t imagine the horrors this evil will bring. But they will see you and understand that their hopes for achieving greater power are likely dashed. I know many of these nobles were hoping to present their own sons to the Princess as suitors, and some of them are no doubt planning to do so tonight. To them, Ganon is not the threat—you are.”

Thank Din for his ability to slide into the relative safety of The Chosen Knight.

“What should I do?”

“You’re an honourable man Link,” Father praised, smiling and squeezing his shoulder, “there’s nothing you must do but be aware. I’ve seen your steadfastness, as has the King. Rhoam is a good man and a wise tactician—the aim of announcing these events together is to prevent panic.”

Link allowed his mask of stone to crack slightly, showing his father that he did not understand.

“The betrothal is what the people will focus on, not the Calamity. This will allow your fellow champions the freedom to prepare and explain much of why Zelda has not awakened her powers—at least to the uneducated.”

“Pardon?”

“They’ll say she was distracted as an untethered girl, and now she will be able to focus as a woman should.”

He sealed his mask closed again before the red in his vision could escape.

“That’s not—” he signed harshly, forgetting himself.

“I know son,” Father signed back, smile turning sympathetic, “Zelda is an incredibly hard and dedicated worker. If she weren’t the Princess, I would ask her to consider knighthood.”

Link let out a calming breath and filed the praise away. His princess would find some joy both in the knowledge of his own father’s pride in her and in the idea of her being a knight. He looked into the grey eyes of his father and nodded. Had he been another man in another position, Link would have given the older man a hug of gratitude.

Thank Farore for her Blessing.

...

He’s adjusted the formal tunic more times than he can count. The tailors had done wonders to make the heavy outfit bearable—his previous Royal Guard Uniform had barely fit. Even his boots fit properly, instead of having to stuff parchment or wool into the toes.

That was the price for being knighted so young—formal wear that didn’t fit.

His new tunic was lighter in material and colour. The undertunic had been changed from it’s deep maroon to forest green, with the overtunic and capelet changed to his Champion's Blue. Much like his Champions tunic, the Master Sword had been embroidered in gold on the front, with the traditional Royal Symbol adorning the back of the capelet. The real Sword rested at his back, a stable presence in his mind providing him with courage. His hands had been freed from the customary white gloves, and his bare hands felt almost naked.

His favourite change by far was the removal of the Nayru-forsaken cap.

In its place, a silver circlet rested over his hair. The simple braid expanded at the center to reveal a pair of wings—the diamond-shaped sapphire in the center completing the ancient Royal Symbol. It felt strange at first—he’d really only worn jewelry when absolutely necessary, like the earrings he’d been given to beat the elements when travelling. Now, waiting to be announced at the entrance to the ballroom, he’s thankful for the circlet and its cooling abilities.

They’re waiting for Zelda to arrive from her evening prayers—which King Rhoam himself had decided to observe. As a consequence, Link’s own father was with them and Link was here, standing guard at the door.

Link adjusted the strap on his scabbard. He reached up to make sure his circlet hadn’t moved. Automatically, he went to tighten the laces of his vambrace, only to meet the cloth of his sleeve. He could feel his fear trying to crawl up his throat, hundreds of caterpillars wiggling from his stomach and making a break for freedom.

There was a nudge at the back of his mind, where the familiar presence of the Sword rested. Not a voice, more of a... feeling. A reminder of who he was.

Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply.

_ “Din, thoir dhomh an cumhachd a bhith a ’stiùireadh,”  _ he exhaled, the familiar Prayer of Warriors steadying him.

(Din, give me the power to lead. Let me be an example, an ambassador on your behalf. Help me use my power well and prosper.)

_ “Farore, thoir dhomh an gaisgeachd a leantainn,”  _ the presence in his mind grew, stamping the caterpillars down.

(Farore, give me the courage to follow. Temper my pride, teach me to listen. Help me to pursue what is right regardless of the consequences.)

_ “Nayru, thoir dhomh an gliocas airson aithneachadh,” _ his shoulders dropped from his ears, fingers uncurling and jaw unclenching.

(Nayru, give me the wisdom to discern. Still my selfish desires, check my rash decisions. Help me to remember the past and mind the future.)

_ “Hylia, beannaich mi le do ghràdh.” _

(Hylia, bless me with your love. Enable me to spread it through the corners of your land. Help me to purge any evil but keep love as my guide.)

Peace settled upon him fully as he finished. All his nerves were there, underneath his skin, but he felt in control of them. He was prepared for battle, a soldier through and through, and he would not fail.

It was then the Royal family made their appearance. The three figures walked briskly down the hall, which was both a relief and a stressor to the man standing still.

His eyes met his father’s first, out of habit. The elder man nodded, a silent confirmation that all was well with his charge. Next, he bowed to the King and Princess, remembering at the last second not to bend so deeply that his circlet fell off.

“None of that now my boy!” King Rhoam declared jovially, “We’re about to be family, after all!”

The knot in his stomach tightened at the mention, but he was practiced at ignoring it. Straightening, he did as he was told...

And looked right into the eyes of Zelda.

Link stopped thinking. He stopped breathing. Had the shiver of anxiety not still been coursing through him, he’d have sworn he’d died.

Zelda was, in a word, radiant. Her dress was a brilliant blue, deep like the night sky. It twinkled and winked in the lantern-light, as though she’d personally taken the stars from the heavens and placed them in the fabric. Golden vines curved around her shoulders, meeting in just under her collarbone at the Golden Triforce that rested there. Her hair, which he’d only seen down or braided for practicality, was done in an elaborate collection of twists, her own golden tiara resting on her hairline.

(The pink dusting her cheeks was an interesting choice. She hated makeup, from her own admission, and she didn’t appear to be wearing anything else.)

His princess gave him a hesitant smile, one gloved hand reaching up to tuck a nonexistent strand of hair behind her ear, “Do I look alright?”

Link could only nod, even his fingers refused to work. The laughter of their fathers causes both young Hylians to blush furiously, and Link hastily steps into position beside his Princess.

She takes his offered arm, the contact like lightning. His eyes fall to her gloved hand resting on his forearm, almost upset at the layers of cloth preventing the contact.

(His heated face refused to be cooled, despite the sapphire resting on his head.)

Both young Hylians took synchronized deep breaths as the doors to the ballroom opened.

“May I present,” announced a booming voice to the quiet room, “His Majesty, the King of Hyrule!”

There was great applause as the King entered, flanked by Link’s own father. When it had quieted to an acceptable level, the booming voice began again.

“May I present,” Zelda’s hand tightened on his arm, “Her Royal Highness, Princess Zelda!”

He was glad he hadn’t been announced. For a few more moments, he was allowed to be nothing more than the Princesses appointed knight, escorting her to the ball and ensuring her safety. He wanted to savour every moment of his fading anonymity.

When Zelda had been seated (he mourned the loss of contact briefly) he took his place standing behind her. From this new vantage point, he could see that her hair was twisted into a golden flower on the back of her head, and it took his breath away again. There was a large chair to her left, which Link knew was meant for him, but for the moment it was worth ignoring. Just like the look Father was giving him out of the corner of his eyes.

“Welcome!” King Rhoam's voice thundered, “Welcome to all who have joined us today for this great celebration!”

Link was in awe of the King, how he commanded the room with nothing but his voice. The way he sounded like this really was just a party, like there was no reason to worry, like there wasn’t a looming shadow of doom nipping at their heels.

(He pushed the thought that he would one day have to do this to the very back of his mind, and then he set the thought on fire.)

“Welcome Sheikah, Zora, Rito, Goron and Gerudo! May the Goddesses smile upon your graciousness in attending despite the short summons.”

“Never one to miss a party brother!” yelled a Goron.

King Rhoam laughed. “Indeed! And a party without our Goron Brethren is hardly one worth attending!”

Mighty booms resounded as the Gorons laughed and pounded the floor.

“A Special Welcome,” continued the King when he could be heard, “to our Warriors! I’d like to thank you for joining me today, and for your bravery in accepting this...fateful task.”

The air in the room chilled as a sombre tension spread throughout its occupants. The aforementioned warriors presented themselves to the middle of the ballroom, striding confidently until they were clustered together, separate from the rest of the crowd. King Rhoam allowed a few solemn moments to pass before continuing.

“I officially appoint you Hyrule’s Champions and bestow upon you this sacred garb. That blue is a symbol of the Royal Family, one that has been passed down for Countless Generations. Those garments you now wear were all crafted by my daughter, Zelda.”

At her name, Zelda stood and took her place beside her father. He could see the tense set in her shoulders, and the way she fidgeted with her fingers behind her back. It was hard to tell because of the dress, but he was certain she was holding her breath.

“Zelda,” King Rhoam said, turning, “I appoint you with a task only the daughter of the royal family can fulfill.”

He doubted anyone else caught it, but Link heard the ruthless edge in the older man's voice. He saw the lines harden around his eyes, and the way his lips curled into a sneering smile.

(He also saw Zelda flinch slightly, as she curtseyed. He had to fight down some treasonous thoughts.)

“However,” shifted the king, “there is more to this celebration than a call to action.”

The knot in Link’s stomach quadrupled. This was it.

“The Royal Family has an exciting announcement.”

If Calamity Ganon showed up right at this second, Link would probably thank him. His future Father-in-Law turned from the crowd and motioned him forward. As practiced, Link stands on the side opposite Zelda. He recites the Warriors Prayer in his head to drown out the curious murmurs of the crowd.

King Rhoam smiles at him as he approaches. “Six years ago, this talented young knight pulled the Master Sword from its pedestal. Chosen by Farore, he is Hyrule’s champion: Fated to land the finishing blow and destroy Calamity Ganon!”

The serenity he’d been holding onto flees as the hundreds of eyes (real this time, not imagined) turn to scrutinize him.

“Since that time, he’s been training for another role...”

Link may die, here and now, if his heart doesn’t calm its frantic pace.

“It is well known that the Chosen Hero and the Princess of Destiny are joined together by the thread of fate. Today, on behalf of the kingdom of Hyrule, I want to add a second thread to the tapestry woven by the Goddesses.”

He wishes the tailors had removed the high collar of his uniform so that it would be easier to breathe.

“It is my utmost pleasure to formally give the hand of my daughter to Sir Link in the promise of marriage! May the goddesses smile upon them and bless the land of Hyrule!”

Applause thunders as King Rhoam places Zelda’s hand in Link’s. It echoes in his head, like a volley of arrows ricocheting against his skull. He has to stomp down the childish desire to ask everyone to please stop, and be quiet, and leave him alone.

Zelda, Nayru bless her, squeezes his hand encouragingly. Her smile is shy, almost uncomfortable, but it manages to settle the flock of rhinos rampaging in his head.

They turn as one, still clinging to each other, to face the kingdom. Link’s eyes search the room until he lands on Aryll’s beaming face. She’d been invited to join Urbosa’s party, since both her family members would be tied up with their duties, and the young Hylian had eagerly accepted.

(Mipha had wanted to offer, he knows, but Zora etiquette didn’t allow for it. As a Spirit-Daughter, Aryll was as much a Gerudo as Urbosa herself, making it easy for the Chief to justify the action.)

When he meets her grey irises, she pulls up her hands, flattened into triangles, and pushes the tips of them together.

“Kiss!” she signs over and over again, teasing grin growing every time her hands meet.

Link resists sticking his tongue out at her and moves to find his other best friend. She’s not hard to spot, still standing with the other champions, red scales contrasting the blue of her wrap.

Even from here, he can see the tears in her eyes, mouth open in shock, hands clenched so tightly that her scales are a dull pink. He doesn’t understand her reaction...until he remembers that he’d forgotten to mention the betrothal to her.

For five straight years.

The tips of his ears burn with embarrassment. At first, it was just out of habit: he didn’t like to burden people with his problems, and keeping them to himself was the easiest way to avoid doing that. And then, when he and Zelda had been growing closer and the betrothal wasn’t a “problem” anymore, his letters had been full of his excitement about his newfound friend. That they were engaged was really not at the forefront of his mind—it wasn’t something that they talked about and he often forgot about it except in their quieter moments.

Mipha had every right to be upset, and Link made a mental note to find time alone to apologize for keeping it secret, even accidentally.

Resolve built, the young knight turned to lead his fiancée down the stairs onto the dance floor. It was customary for the newly betrothed to lead the first dance, and Link would not embarrass himself or his family by appearing uncultured.

(What were the last six years for, if he couldn’t even properly make it through one ball?)

The stillness of the watching guests was almost worse than their cheer. It was heavy, oppressive, and threatened to take Link’s breath away. He was so preoccupied with appearing proper than he almost stumbled on the last step.

“It’s okay,” whispered his princess so softly he almost missed it, “I’m nervous too.”

When they made it to the center of the floor, he heard the tap-tap-tapping of the conductor. Link swallowed the lump in his throat, placed his left hand on his back, and his right hand on Zelda’s waist.

There was a sudden shyness between them as they started to sway with the music, practiced steps perfectly in rhythm. Link shook his head a little to clear it—just last night he’d seen her laugh so hard she snorted cider out her nose! Two weeks ago, they’d argued about the best colour of Hylian retrievers! What was so nerve-wracking about his hand on her waist, and her smile, and the spark in her eyes...

He switches his hands as they turn, placing his right on the scabbard and using his left to lift her arm up and down with the lilt of the song. Zelda twirled under his arm, coming out of the spin and grabbing his outstretched arm.

Her grace was extraordinary, and Link was lost. He led her in a circle, smile widening as her beauty loosened the knot in his stomach. When he brings her in close, one hand on her back and the other in hers, he’s caught by the way she seems to glide, and the breathless laughter in her eyes.

He loves her, honestly and truly.

They waltz around the room, eyes never leaving each other. Zelda’s face is playful as she dips her head back and spins with him. He hasn’t seen her look so free in... he can’t even remember when.

(He makes a note to dance with her more often.)

The pearls of laughter she releases as he spins her out to the side are pure, and they make the judgemental gazes of those around them melt into nothingness. It’s as though Hylia herself has descended to erase their evil, and in its place, Link has received the joy of the spinning girl at his side.

Link lifts her, dress billowing out beneath his hands, and the gasps of the crowd barely register. When he brings her down, they’re so close that their noses touch, and he has to stop himself from planting a kiss on her ecstatic face. He hadn’t regretted it the night before, but this would not be the time.

(His smile stretches wider at the memory of her soft lips on his, and he doesn’t bother to fight back the blush any more than he does the eruption of warm feelings.)

After a final spin, he dips her gently. Her flushed face comes back up, green eyes bright with glee. There’s a moment, seconds in all but an eternity to him, where their eyes meet, and nothing else in the entire world matters. Not Ganon, not the pressure of the kingdom, not the expectation of the future. For that lingering second, nothing exists except Link, Zelda, and their shared joy.

Then they part, and he bows to her curtsey. The applause brings the rest of the world back, and other couples fill the dance floor.

The dance goes on for over an hour, during which Link shares a wonderful dance with Aryll (who’d squealed in rapture when he lifted her), an embarrassing but amusing one with Urbosa (who’d lifted  _ him _ ) and several other noblewomen. He can’t find Mipha anywhere but notes that very few Zora are dancing anyway. It stands to reason she would be with her people, and Link doesn’t want to embarrass her. Perhaps it’s selfishness, but he decides to speak with her tomorrow before she journeys home.

He manages one last dance with Zelda and delights in twirling her around and holding her close. Several members of the nobility come up to congratulate them after, and Link doesn’t miss the snide looks thrown his way. His princess handles the talking, thanking each guest for their congratulations, and he meets each nasty look with his own impassivity.

In the end, the betrothed pair take their leave early for Zelda’s prayers. It’s a relief to get away from the noise and lights, and Link lifts a silent prayer of thanks. Based on how the girl on his arm relaxes, releasing an exhale and leaning her head on his shoulder as they walk, she’s just as relieved as he is.

The mood is soured slightly when she doesn’t unlock her powers—it would have been the perfect ending to the day.

(Of course, when she gives permission for him to kiss her again, neither Hylian seem any less happy than they were while inside.)

Her laughter when he spins her around makes for a wonderful replacement.


	4. Torn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To pull asunder by force, usually so as to leave ragged or irregular edges.

She's drawn her wedding band before, of course.

What sixteen-year-old hadn't? Zelda doesn't consider herself particularly romantic, preferring the hard facts of nature to the lofty ideals of love. But that doesn't mean she doesn't have  _ ideas _ about it.

The design itself hadn't really changed over the years either. It had certainly grown more refined, but the major elements hadn't changed.

(From the first moment that she'd read about the Silent Princess, she knew what she would use to represent herself.)

Over the last year the sloppy doodles in the margins of her notebooks had turned to full fledged technical drawings. Ideas had gone from passing thoughts to potential features. Measurements had been gathered, and decisions made.

Zelda wouldn't call it an obsession; she's just being thorough.

And yes, she may have slacked in some of her devotions—prayers fading into plans without any real effort to refocus on her powers...but if Hylia minded, she didn't seem to be communicating it.

Unfortunately, crafting her band isn't as easy as it had seemed on paper.

For one thing, the bands are meant to be created in secret. Every book Zelda read and every person she talked to reinforced one fact: Link was not allowed to see or even know about the object until she proposed.

"The tradition," she explained to Impa when they met for their monthly tea-and-catch-up, "comes from an ancient myth. It was believed that one would put a piece of their very soul into the object, and to have the intended see it before completion would cause damage to both souls. I'm not sure how much I believe in that, but I would like to surprise him regardless!"

And surprising Link at all was a task worthy of Din herself. Even if they didn't spend more time in each other's company than out of it, her fiancé was an incredibly observant man. He could see patterns almost instantly and pick out changes in routine even faster.

(Once he'd stopped partway through his breakfast, insisting the jam was different. After some sleuthing, it was discovered that the berries had come from a different region than they typically got them from. Zelda hadn’t even noticed.)

She'd initially wanted to propose on her birthday—as a present to herself. But certain... conversations and events had shifted her priorities. 

Looking at the finished product, she wonders if maybe it was a subtle blessing.

Aryll, Purah, Robbie, and Urbosa were the real heroes to her. Between the four of them, Zelda's confident that Link doesn't even know she's  _ planned  _ his wedding band, let alone finished it.

Purah had taken some convincing to help, until she realized the teasing materials that would be gifted to her. For all that the Sheikah researcher was 20, there were times she seemed closer to 6.

Robbie had agreed readily, eager to lend his particular brand of expertise to the project. The idea of besting Purah had the engineer almost giddy.

(Theirs was a rivalry Zelda could never really understand. They both dealt with ancient technology, but where Purah was interested in the Why, Robbie was far more fascinated with How. Robbie would make where Purah would learn. To compete at things that weren't comparable made no sense to the young Hylian)

(Impa's advice was to let it go and stay out of the way. From the long-suffering sigh the younger Sheikah had given, Zelda figured the advice came from experience)

Aryll had also been invaluable. Her knowledge of craftsmanship was far beyond Zelda's own, and the 10-year-old had been working around her brother's abilities her whole life. She was midway through her training as a page, meaning that she was expected to take short, 'solo missions' as part of her survival training. These missions turned into Goddess-given opportunities to transport designs and materials between Purah in Castle and Robbie in Kakariko. Zelda had given the younger girl the final blueprints, and Aryll was able to ensure they got to the proper destinations.

Urbosa played the final, most crucial part. Once the materials were ready and back in the Hylian Princess's possession, she needed a place she could put them together. Urbosa had suggested Gerudo Town, since the jewellers there would be able to assist her and Link was forbidden.

Plus, the Gerudo chief wanted to celebrate Zelda's birthday properly, which couldn't be done in the 'stuffy, voe filled castle'.

Aryll had made the trip with them as her final survival test, with the added task of carrying the pieces that would be too suspicious for Zelda to have. The trade-off of materials at the stable (where Aryll would head back and the others would press on to the dessert) had the young princess so wrought with nerves and excitement that she almost forgot to take the instructions Robbie had written for her.

Hiding the materials for just that one day was nerve-wracking. She kept thinking that she would trip and spill all the pieces, or that she'd mix up the bags and pick up Link's by accident. As a result, she kept patting her own belongings—just to make sure they hadn't disappeared.

(Link kept giving her side glances but didn't press, which was great because Zelda had no idea what she would say as an excuse)

And now, despite everything, it was finished. It had taken almost a full day, the jeweller watching over her shoulder as she carefully pieced it together. Each petal was painted, the green leather casing adhered on, the cord braided, and most impressively, Robbie's mechanism worked better than she'd ever dreamed.

All that's left now is to give it to him.

...but...she can do that tomorrow... right?

No...no, she needs to do it now.

Well not right now...but soon.

Zelda bites her lip, turning the pendant over in her hand. Now that the construction is finished, she doesn't know what to do.

For all her plans, she hadn't thought of the final step.

The Princess sighs, leaning her head back to rest against the side of the bed. Her earnings jangle as she moves, and the swirling patterns on the ceiling capture her eyes. The spirals mirror her thoughts, as they intertwine and weave into confusingly beautiful shapes and patterns.

After a moment, the Hylian researcher knows what to do. Opening her scientific journal (that she was supposed to give to Purah a month ago) she flips to find an empty page.

At the top, she writes PROPOSAL in the most practical font she can.

Words and feelings are hard, but science...science she can do.

Once it's an experiment, it's much easier to plan.

_ Elements Completed: The band is made. The location is planned and easily accessible. The participant is here and willing. _

__

_ Elements Pending: Concrete preparation in the form of an acceptable proposal design _

__

_ Desired Outcome; Meaningful Proposal. _

_ -meaningful is defined as something that creates significant positive feelings in both parties, while not creating negative emotions. _

_ -proposal is defined as the successful transfer of Wedding Band ownership. _

__

Zelda pauses, tapping the end of her pencil on her pursed lips. This wasn't the typical kind of experiment, so a typical design wouldn't do. There was no real hypothesis to challenge and she couldn't exactly repeat it to test for validity. This was entirely biased and couldn't be done by anyone who was objective.

How did one plan a subjective experiment??

__

Once she had a starting point, filling it in was easy.

As with any good design, there were a couple of revisions that needed to happen. Two hours and four crumpled wads of paper later found two Hylians trekking out into the desert, a very confused swordsman being dragged by an energetic young lady.

The princess stopped at a seemingly random spot and pulled them both down until they were kneeling in the soft sand. Feminine fingers were brought up in-between the pair, and they wiggled briefly.

"Just a moment." added the lady verbally.

Several deep breaths and a prayer to Farore later, Zelda was ready.

"So," she began, "you're probably wondering why we're here, kneeling in what seems to be the middle of nowhere."

The answering look she received made her laugh, and the ball of nervousness grew a little bit smaller.

"It's a good question, but I promise that there's a good answer. Do you recognize where we are?"

Link looked around playfully.

"Oh yes," he signed, one eyebrow arched, "this specific patch of sand is  _ very _ familiar to me. In fact, I make sure to come on a pilgrimage here as often as I can!"

More tension left her as she swatted his shoulder.

"I'm glad," laughed the princess, "because this specific patch of sand is very important!"

From the satchel on her waist, Zelda pulled out a small leather pouch and placed it between them. It seemed she'd packed some extra fear in there as well, because it came tumbling out.

She kept one hand on the opening of the pouch, as though the contact would keep her in control. Her fingers tapped restlessly, and the repetitive pattern brought her enough comfort to continue without breaking.

"This is the place where...where you saved me from the Yiga."

Blue eyes blinked at her in surprise.

"I took a picture last year, so I wouldn't forget it. I... it’s..."

Farore preserve her.

"That was the first time I... stopped hating you. Well not hate! I never really hated you, you just frustrated me because you were better than me and everyone knew it, which I guess wasn't really true but that's what I thought..."

Links eyebrows furrowed together, and his head was tilted to the side. She was rambling, and probably losing him.

She took a deep breath and released her death-grip on the bag, "What I mean is that it was right here where I discovered you didn't hate me. That you were more than a reminder of my own struggles or a way to tether my freedom.

“It was here that I decided I would give you a chance. Because if you were willing to risk your life for me, even after I'd done my best to antagonize you, then surely you were worth at least getting to know."

The playful aura leached away slowly, a more serious tone taking its place as she spoke. The stoic expression on her Knight's face is different from his usual stone mask—he's listening intently, blue eyes unblinking as he leans incrementally towards her.

Zelda lets the moment hover, only partly to gather her thoughts.

"It didn't take me long to discover how wrong I was about you. And when I did, I... I discovered a friend. Someone who could understand the pressures of Destiny. A confidant who I knew—and know—wont run to my father or gossip about my failures. I discovered that you were willing to know Zelda, instead of The Princess, which...not many people ever do.

“You challenge me without putting me down, you're willing to be silly and serious with me, and even when we disagree, I know that you support me. The foreseeable future is going to be crazy, and I can't control any of it. As scary as that is..."

She takes one of his hands in hers, "it's a lot less scary with you."

Using her other hand, she pulls a small green tear out of the bag. She maneuvers the hand she's holding to that it's palm up and places the pendant in it. The brown leather cord hands loosely down, not quite long enough to reach the sand below.

Zelda takes his other hand and places it on top of the pendant. It's awkward, but she manages to guide him in stroking the teardrop with his fingers from the tip to its base.

The leather casting unfurls, revealing the white and blue petals within. Three golden stamen sit inside, glistening in the sunlight.

The pair sit in silence for a moment—one awed and the other reaching past her lingering nerves for the last pieces of her speech. Zelda can't quite bring herself to look at Link, she's too vulnerable—her soul too bare.

Her voice trembles, thick with emotion, when she whispers.

"The three stamen here represent my marriage promises to you."

Green eyes meet blue, twin sets of unshed tears greeting each other.

"My first promise," she breathes, "is the promise of choice. Neither of us got to choose to be together, and we didn't get to choose our destiny. I promise to allow you to choose who you want to be, free of expectation or judgement."

There's a soft sniffle, but she's not sure which one of them it's from. She grazes her finger over the second stamen.

"The second promise is the promise of clarity. I promise to express my thoughts and emotions, as well as ask after yours. Maybe," she smirks, "it would be better to say that I promise not to assume you can read my mind, or vice versa."

He chuckles, shaking his head with a smile. She giggles with him, some of the heaviness giving way to levity.

"My final promise to you is the promise of unity. My father said that we are bound together as the Goddesses chosen ones, and in that respect I agree. As Princess and Knight, we are a unit as well."

Her heart hammers, face warm in a way that has nothing to do with the desert sun.

"But my promise goes deeper than that. My promise to you isn't to be united as per our duties and roles. My promise is to be united as Zelda and Link. I will stay by your side from now until Hylia sees fit to part us. For no other reason than...than because I want to. Because I love you."

(Later, Zelda laughs that they always end up crying and hugging at that specific spot.)

(She doesn't even register the light feeling that sprouts in her soul.)

* * *

He's... Frustrated.

Or... well... That's the closest word he can use to describe his mood.

Helpless would probably be more apt, but it doesn't quite suit the situation. And he refuses to admit to being helpless.

For now.

Link brushes his thumb against the cool purple of the sword hilt and shifts his grip on the Master Sword, ready for any enemies that dare show their face. Not that he expects any here. The springs seem almost immune to monster infestations, as if the creatures of darkness can't even step foot on the Holy soil.

A quick glance at his shadow shows the hour, and he’s lucky that he’s both well trained and used to little sleep. Otherwise, he’s sure he’d be dead on his feet.

As expected, the only sound is the gentle lap of the water and the whispered prayers of his Princess behind him. Exactly the way it’s been for the last hour, which is also something Link’s learned to expect. He shifts his weight, wiggling his fingers and toes to encourage some heat to return to them. There’s a chill in the air—for all that it’s so close to Death Mountain, the Spring of Power has always seemed chilly to him. 

(He wonders if perhaps it’s Din’s grief. Grief for her chosen, lost to darkness and evil for eternity. That would certainly make him cold)

He lets out a soft breath and wonders if it’s been long enough. He respects Zelda’s need to push herself, he really does, but he also thinks that standing in water for hours in the middle of the night is asking for trouble. After nine years of it, he honestly doesn’t think that her powers will unlock suddenly.

It was Zelda who had told him, after the fifth particularly embarrassing attempt at catching the fish he’d wanted to cook, that doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result was ‘the definition of insanity’. Unfortunately, he didn’t have an alternate solution to help with her issue.

(The more mischievous part of his brain, aided by his fatigue and frustration, supplied that maybe they could use the same solution as the fish. His rational brain countered that diving in and grabbing her is not something she’d appreciate.)

He’s still making up his mind about whether or not to get her, when he hears the frustrated sigh.

“I come seeking help...regarding this power that has been handed down over time.”

While it’s not unusual for her to speak her prayers aloud, this is the first time he’s heard her do so in modern speech. In the three years that he’d been her knight, she’s only ever prayed in the ancient language during her devotions. It hadn’t struck him as odd—his own warriors' devotion was in Ancient Hylian, and so was any prayer spoken aloud in a formal setting.

Something about Zelda speaking to the Goddesses so casually stirred up memories in his spirit; the dissonance of the sudden rock in his gut and the  _ rightness _ in his bones kept his back turned as she spoke.

“Prayer will awaken my power to seal Ganon away...” the bitter words decrease to a defeated mumble, “or so I’ve been told all my life.”

Her next words sound stronger, a desperate whisper, “And yet...

“Grandmother heard them—the voices from the spirit realm.”

Link turns his head slightly, like an owl listening for a mouse. They rarely talk about the departed of their families, and for all his concern he’s curious.

“And Mother said her own power would develop within me. But I don't hear...or feel anything! Father has told me time and time again...he always says, ‘Quit wasting your time playing at being a scholar!’”

The tremble of her voice lingers in the air. Her frustration is palpable, and he feels it echoed in his own soul.

(The place where the Master Sword rests in his head stirs, pushing deeper into the emotion. He’s not sure, but he’d like to think that the spirit within also sees the folly of the King’s decrees.)

For a long moment, only the steady drone of the waterfalls can be heard. Two twin splashes break the monotony, as Zelda’s watery voice fills the air.

“Curse you.”

Link wonders if she means Hylia or her Father.

“I’ve spent every day of my life dedicated to praying! I’ve pleaded to the spirits tied to the ancient gods, and still the holy powers have proven deaf to my devotion... Please just tell me...What is it?

“What’s wrong with me?!”

He’d started to turn when her voice had broken, unable to stand by and hear her despair. As such, he had a full view of her hunched over form, hands gripping her bare arms. She’s shaking with silent sobs, body so bent in grief that her face is almost at the surface of the water.

Well. That wouldn't do.

He pushes an apology towards the presence in his head as he puts the Master Sword gently on the ground. (The response is a pulse of understanding, forgiveness and... pride. It’s good to know that he’s on the right track.) He wades into the water—technically sacrilege but somehow, he doubts that the High Priestess of Hylia will fault him.

Not when he’s only coming in to get to her.

The chilled water steals his breath momentarily, and he stops to recover. She doesn’t react to his entrance, but Link doesn’t want to scare her, so he makes as much noise as possible as he walks slowly towards her.

Zelda still starts when he places his hand on her shoulder, but she doesn’t look up at him. If he had his way, he would pull her out of the water right then and there, drag her somewhere warm and safe and present a long lecture on all the ways she is wonderful.

Link may not be Nayru’s chosen, but he has enough wisdom to know that his way may not be best.

That leaves him with problems, because he has no idea what to do now. The moon is almost at its height, and he guesses that there’s no progress on her power. It’s well within his rights to just carry her out of the water, but he doesn’t want to make that choice for her.

If he knows his princess at all, he knows that giving her autonomy is the best thing he can do for her.

It takes a few taps to get Zelda to look at him. He’s surprised to find no tear tracks on her cheeks, her eyes aren’t red or swollen, and the blotchy redness of her skin seems more concurrent with the cold than that of deep emotion. The desperate despair in her eyes, and the heavy set of her shoulders betray her true feelings.

“What do you want to do Zel?” he signs carefully, slowly so that the true meaning of his question travels past her grief. ‘ _ How can I help, what do you need?’ _

The trembling girl in front of him doesn't speak. The weight doesn’t lift, and the remorse doesn’t soak into the water like he’d hoped it would. If not for the soft exhale she let out, and the way her eyes looked away briefly, Link would have thought that she hadn't even seen him.

Zelda lets out another sigh, and it’s as though more weight has been placed on her shoulders. Her dim eyes meet his, one hand rising from the water. It’s curled into a fist, except for her index finger and thumb which are held a short distance from each other.

It’s fruitless for her to spend more time in the water, and they both know it, but if that’s what she feels she needs...

Link wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a side hug as they face the Goddess together. He imagines sending her strength and warmth and taking some of the burden off her shoulders.

He doesn’t have the power to solve her problems, but he’ll die before he lets her face them alone.

* * *

She can't  _ believe _ him!

What had he—how could he—ugh!!

Zelda rams the book she's holding into its place with a scowl. This is the fourth time today she's reorganized the bookshelf in her study. Unfortunately, the activity isn't performing its typical duty of calming the thundering storm of emotions within her.

They really shouldn't have even been at the castle! Nayru knows she's been avoiding the stone walls (and one specific person within) as much as physically possible. The summons 'home' had initially been like a chain tightening around her.

Impa's news was like a set of keys.

Somehow, her father and the priests had concluded that she would benefit from learning from others who had a kind of "mystic power". The idea was that she would pick up their tricks and thus discover how to unlock her own powers.

She would have sold her crown to see Father's face when he realized that the four known masters of magic were also the pilots of the divine beasts.

"Of course," Impa had informed her with a sly smile, "the Sheikah are also well versed in the mystic arts, and our culture is based on serving Hylia and her chosen ones."

Zelda hadn't known that her responsible friend could look so mischievous, but a lifetime of living with Purah must have left some mark.

"While my schedule isn't very flexible these days, I'm sure my sister would be more than happy to instruct you..."

She was everlastingly thankful for Impa. While she certainly wanted to spend time with her dear friend, the younger Sheikah had given her the perfect excuse to dive back into her research.

One thing led to another, and suddenly Robbie was there with a fully functional guardian. Fully functional meaning weapons operational, apparently.

Zelda grabs at the floor beside her for another book, only to discover that there are none. Her bookshelf is now organized by publication date, author and topic.

She doesn't feel any better.

Huffing out an irritated breath, she has to resist grabbing her hair and pulling. Her hands itch restlessly, so she goes to her desk to find something to do there.

Her journal is open to the sketch of the Guardian, which is just...so not helpful. She moves a pile of documents on top of it, as though covering up the reminder will bury the turbulence inside, and reveals the little brown cow plush Link had given her.

For a moment her anger ignites and threatens to erupt, thinking that he's somehow snuck up here and placed it to further ruin her day. The realization that it would be completely out of character for him comes simultaneously with the memory of her placing the stuffed animal on the desk not long after she'd gotten it.

The young princess had discovered that having something to "talk to" as she worked through a problem was incredibly helpful. Something about the non-judgement of an inanimate object always made it easier to explore her own thoughts and the texture of the cow always seemed to calm her.

(Plus, it reminded her that  _ someone _ saw how hard she worked.)

.... well...none of her other solutions had worked.

“It’s not that I’m ungrateful!” she exclaimed, placing the toy on the center of the desk, “I’m quite thankful that no one was hurt, and I’m fully aware of the consequences had he not acted so swiftly.”

The lifeless black eyes stare back at her.

“Of course it’s his fault! All that training and strategic thinking, and he couldn’t find a different solution?!”

The stupid cow is mocking her.

“I don’t know! I’m not a knight, it’s not my job to...to think of all the different ways to protect people! I have my  _ own _ job, and I can’t even do that so why would I take his? And it’s not even about that! I’m working as hard as I can and he...

“He’s not even sorry! He didn’t apologize and I can see he’s not remorseful. I’m sure he thinks that he did the right thing, and that’s what’s so...infuriating!”

She hadn’t even realized that she’d been pacing until she stumbled over her desk chair. Cursing internally, she seized the toy and squeezed it hard. Short nails dug into the soft fabric, and Zelda pushed the head of the animal into her own forehead. She imagined pouring all of her frustration and anger into the little thing, tensing up her body so to release absolutely everything.

Slowly she relaxed. Uncurling her toes, unlocking her knees, taking a deep breath. She turned her mind to the soft sensation between her fingers, the rough embroidery of its nose on her forehead. Dropping her shoulders, she imagines the calmness of the lifeless toy flowing into her, replacing the turbulence with peace.

“It’s just,” she whispered, “I was so looking forward to working with the technology again. We’re only here until tomorrow, and then we’ll be gone, and who knows when I’ll next get to work with a functioning Guardian? Father could change his mind and decide that I have to do this on my own, or I could unlock my power and be so busy learning how to use it that I’m forbidden from doing anything else. This may have been my last chance, and now it’s gone...”

The same gnawing emptiness from the Spring of Power ate at the space behind her eyes. It seemed she was still out of tears, for all that her eyes burned to shed them.

“It was impressive,” laughs Zelda numbly, “and I suppose it did provide us with some insight into the potential weaknesses of the Guardians.”

The death grip on her little cow is released, and she pulls away so that she can look it in the eyes.

“I wouldn’t have thought that the beam could be reflected by anything, and a pot lid most of all! Knowing that a direct hit to the eye is fatal gives me something to look for when we go to the divine beasts as well. We don’t want Ganon to reflect back whatever they throw at him, and if he does, we need to be able to direct it away from any weak spots...”

She’s not quite better, but the thunderstorm of emotions seems to have dwindled to a simple rain. There’s one thing that is still bothering her.

“I do wish Link had apologized...” she admits, “although I suppose he wouldn’t think saving our lives something he should feel remorseful for. And there wasn’t time to explain before he was called away.”

Almost immediately, Link had been called to demonstrate for the Knight Initiates. It was the whole reason for their brief stay—on top of being an accomplished swordsman, her knight was also one of the best horsemen in the Guard. With the newest knights being pushed forwards earlier than normal (something that neither Chosen Hylian was fond of) it was crucial that they learn from the best.

If they were short, even one trained person when the Calamity came...

She sighed, sinking down against the wall and placing the toy beside her. Closing her eyes, she prayed that there would be enough time. That she would unlock her powers, and that all the children Link was teaching wouldn’t have to use their newfound skills. That the Divine Beasts would be as functional as that Guardian had been. That they would win.

When she opened her eyes again, Link was crouching in front of her. She hadn’t heard him come in, which wasn’t unusual given how silent he could be, and he didn’t look worried.

She must have fallen asleep.

The pair exchanged smiles—one weary and one guarded. Zelda could just make out the shape of his band beneath his tunic. He’d tucked it there almost immediately as he’d put it on.

“It’s closest to my heart this way,” he’d explained with shaky fingers, “and I won’t have to worry about monsters tugging it off.”

The memory drifts through her mind unbidden.  _ I promise to express my thoughts and emotions, as well as ask after yours. _

__

She hadn’t really been fair, she supposes. Perhaps he was sorry, and perhaps her anger was unfounded.

A little brown cow is the witness to their talk, as Princess expresses her feelings and Knight explains his own. It sees the Knight’s anger, his worry, and his relief. It hears the Princess’s frustration and admittance.

If it could, it would certainly applaud their communication and encourage their efforts to work through their feelings together.

(The light that had been slowly building in Zelda grows stronger.)

* * *

His teeth hurt.

And yeah, maybe it's his fault.

Okay...it's entirely his fault.

But you can't just refuse a dish! Not only would his etiquette teachers smack him with a ruler, but he would personally regret it.

It’s Link's personal (secret) mission to try every single meal that exists. Every. Single. One.

So, when Daruk had offered him some of the Prime Rock Roast last night, the Hylian Knight had tried it eagerly. To his Princess’s astonishment and the Goron Champion’s glee, he’d managed to eat a decent amount. And he was able to check that particular dish off his list.

And now...his teeth hurt.

But he's happy to be riding on the back of Vah Rudania with his friend. Zelda is inside the belly of the mechanic lizard, studying the way Rudania managed to rotate its insides. She’d gotten pretty into it; he’d seen her eyes glaze over as she went into ‘research mode’ and had kicked them both outside.

The only reason Link had agreed was that Daruk would be able to tell if any threats came. Since their last visit, the bond between the Goron and Beast had strengthened. Daruk could now control Rudania with relative ease, and even hold short conversations with him.

“Not words so to speak,” the Champion had stated around a mouthful of pebbles, “more like...feelings. Images sometimes. It’s real humbling—Rudania has the memories of what Death Mountain looked like before. Seeing that...it’s enough to shake the gravel loose!”

Link finds he can relate. The Master Sword will, on occasion, implant its—her—impressions about situations. He’d have dreams about adventures, different people and places but a common thread between all of them.

(Zelda appeared in most of them, to some extent. As a pirate, or the mayor's daughter, or a ghost. It was always her and always him, the two of them against the world.)

“—Right...Little Guy?!”

Daruk’s hearty ‘tap’ on his back snaps him out of his thoughts. He stumbles forward several paces, rubbing his sore back.

Daruk doesn’t even notice.

“Hey by the way,” continues the Goron, moving up to be standing next to the young Hylian, “congrats on becoming the prince-to-be! That’s a really big deal, getting ready to take over the kingdom... No pressure!”

Link can’t really join in with the Goron’s laughter. He rubs the back of his neck, feeling the braided cord of this necklace. No pressure indeed...

“Seriously, though. The Princess is a strong personality—huh?”

The elder champion stops, Rudania halting its path beneath them. Daruk tilts his head and half-turns towards the control unit, before the ground beneath them rumbles. It’s all Link can do to keep his balance as the previously stable ground trembles violently. There’s a deafening crack as the volcano erupts, spitting boulders the size of horses down towards them. Daruk growls putting his fists up as if to challenge the falling debris to a boxing match.

Link chooses to make himself as small as possible behind the much larger Goron.

He’s still hit with some falling rocks, but instead of the bone-crushing mass he’d seen, it’s several medium sized rocks and smaller pebbles. Before him is a glowing amber structure. It hums lightly, its crystalline shape simmering in the sun, and in its center stands the Goron Champion.

This is the magic that they’re here to study.

It winks out of existence as Daruk turns, eyes resting on the Hylian knight only briefly before turning back to the mountain.

“That was a little strange...as far as I know, Death Mountain has been quiet for decades. But if the mountain is shivering enough to send down a bunch of boulders that size then—”

The gears turn in both their heads, and neither like the conclusion they come to.

“Never mind.” Daruk ushers him gently but urgently towards the ladder, “Forget I said anything. Let’s go check on the Princess, eh Brother?”

Zelda is shaken (Link laughs internally at his pun) but thankfully unharmed. The trio decide that it is perhaps time to break, and Rudania carries them to a place that’s safe for the flammable Hylians to disembark.

When Link asks about the structure Daruk had called on, Zelda perks up like a puppy responding to a whistle.

“Oh that? That’s Daruk’s Protection! It’s an ability I’ve always had, since I was a little pebble rolling around. Comes in mighty handy eh?”

“Can you call it up at will?” inquires the Princess.

“Sure can!”

Suddenly, the crystal cage is back, surrounding Daruk’s entire body. Zelda reaches out cautiously and meets the shifting amber light with an open palm.

“It’s completely solid!” she breathes.

“Sure is!” exclaims Daruk, “And entirely indestructible! C’mon little guy, try it out!”

Link finds out two things in that moment. The first is that Daruk's Protection is indeed impenetrable. Solid like a diamond despite its translucent appearance.

The second discovery is why he’s not Nayru’s chosen.

He cradles his hand where he’d punched the shield full force and restrains his facial muscles so as not to scowl at Daruk’s laughter. For her part, Zelda is aghast—her mouth open and eyes so wide he’s concerned they’re going to fall out.

There’s an awkward moment between the two Hylians. He sees the war behind her eyes, caught between admonishing him and asking the cackling Goron for more information. He decides to make the choice for her, shaking out his aching hand and flexing his fingers with a smile. It’s not broken, and whatever bruising he gets won’t hinder his motion at all.

She narrows her eyes at him but turns back to interview Daruk.

...

Link’s soaking his hand in the hot spring as Zelda reviews her notes several hours later. The sun is beginning to set, and this part of the mountain is cool enough that he’s not worried about their elixirs wearing off. His princess keeps making thoughtful noises, her tongue sticking out in concentration between her teeth. He hopes she manages to find some kind of connection between the powers they’re studying and her own.

Hylia willing, they’ll have time.

* * *

She’s known him for four years, and yet somehow...

Sure, she’s seen him run drills before. He does them almost as much as she prays. Once, about a year ago, she’d watched him teach combat to a group of soon-to-be knights. That had been an experience—many of the men had been older than he was and yet he hadn’t had any problem defeating each and every one of them. While they travelled, the duo would occasionally come across a group of monsters that needed to be taken care of.

But this...

Watching her soft-spoken fiancé fight with such ferocity... she’d never seen anything like it.

“That cut doesn’t look too bad, actually.” Zelda presses the cloth over his forearm, with a little more pressure than strictly necessary, “You’re fine for now.”

Looking up from her hands, she notices the scrape on his forehead. Using her sleeve, she gently wipes away the droplets of blood beginning to gather there. The Princess puts on her hardest stare, “You know, there’s a fine line between courage and recklessness.”

Link has the decency to look sheepish, although it’s undercut by the roguish gleam in his eyes. Her stare turns into a glare, and she presses harder on his arm. He doesn’t even flinch.

She’s not really mad at him—it wasn’t as though he’d gone looking for trouble. Zelda had wanted to take a picture of the view from a safe spot on the mountain and Link had agreed that the detour was a worthwhile way to end their trip. The sunset made for a gorgeous photo, and her Knight had decided it was a safe enough place to spend the night.

Apparently, an entire pack of bokoblins had the same idea.

From her hidden vantage point, Zelda had seen the dual pair of Lynels a split second before Link had. Din must have favoured her, because it took all her self-control to not yell out a warning.

(Link had sat her down once, early in their partnership, and all but commanded her to remain silent if he requested. Now having seen the brutality of a savage Lynel, she understood why.)

After a few minutes, she took the cloth off of his arm. The bleeding had stopped, but the gash made bile rise in her throat. Blinking away the surge of worry, she tied a bandage around it efficiently.

He tapped her shoulder, giving her a lopsided smile when she met his eyes. He was fine and would remain so.

Satisfied, the Hylian Princess turned towards their surroundings. The scope of the attack hit her hard as she counted the bodies of the slain monsters before her. Red, blue, black, and white-striped bodies littered the landscape like wildflowers.

“It seems that, not only is the frequency of these types of attacks on the rise...” she noted, “but the scale of beats we are facing is intensifying as well.”

Zelda had never even seen a Lynel before, and yet here were four of them in front of her. And the colours...white-maned Lynels were exceedingly rare—to the point of being labelled as extinct. As were blue moblins and black bokoblins, yet Link had fought several of each not twenty minutes ago. It wasn’t an isolated incident either, reports from across the kingdom had detailed the sudden resurrection of beasts that hasn't been seen in decades.

Something inside her clenched as the pieces fell into place. Evil was rising, and the land was responding.

The words actually hurt to say, like by speaking them she was creating reality and dooming her people. “I fear that—I fear that this is an omen which portends the return of Calamity Ganon.”

Once the words were out, it was like a weight had been lifted. Energetic light fluttered in her chest, and she smiled as she stood.

Zelda reached down for Link, hope pouring out of her. “And, if that’s the case, I’m ready to expect the worst! We’ll need to make preparations as soon as possible.”

His challenging smile bolstered her determination, and as she helped him up Zelda realized she didn’t dread her foes return. Her mind was alight with ideas, the churning of plans and strategies coming to fruition. By the time they returned to the castle, she would be able to present contingencies for any worse case scenario presented. Even if Ganon arrived before she unlocked her powers, even if the Champions weren’t ready, she would ensure that her people and her kingdom would not suffer.

“Oh,” she called, turning towards her knight, “we’ll want to stop by Zora’s domain before heading home. It’s a slight detour, but I’d like Mipha to double-check that arm of yours.”

Link gave her a mock salute, using only his index finger to swipe from his forehead. It was his way of agreeing cheekily, and it released any lingering tension she felt. That he was feeling well enough to tease her reinforced that there was no danger.

At the stable that night, Zelda burrowed under her blankets and scrolled through the pictures on the Sheikah slate. Her mind was too active to sleep, too busy turning over all the information she’d gathered and sorting it. She came to the picture of all the champions together, directly after she’d made Link an official champion.

Daruk had pushed them together at the last second and had, apparently, over judged his own strength... although his shameless grin told a different story. Revali and Mipha were almost falling out of frame, being on the outside and closest to the Goron’s powerful blow. Urbosa, somehow, looked unaffected, smiling smugly with her arms crossed. Link and Zelda were huddled together, Zelda attempting to dodge Revali and Link looking more out-of-sorts than the Princess had ever seen him. The picture never failed to bring Zelda peace, and she studied it until her eyes dropped and her cheeks hurt.

Her last conscious thought was that she wished she could remain suspended in that moment forever—and that the hope she felt wouldn’t ever fade.

(In that moment, her hope and determination bloomed into something long dormant.)

* * *

He was always amazed at her power.

It doesn't even matter that he's seen her do this countless times, it never fails to bring on a sense of wonder. The blue-white aura shimmered from her hands, knitting his wound together swiftly and neatly.

"I was thinking..." Mipha begins cautiously, not looking up from her mending, "this reminds me of the time we first met. You were just a reckless child, always getting yourself hurt at every turn..."

She looks up at him, a small smile gracing her features. Link smiles back, memories floating to the forefront of his mind with ease.

He wouldn't say that he was  _ reckless _ as a child, more...curious. Curiosity led to exploration, and exploration led to scrapes and bruises.

"Every time, I would heal you, just as I'm doing now."

The Hylian notes that her voice sounds... different. Strained. He wonders if he should mention it, but ultimately decides against it.

If she wants to tell him something, he trusts that she will.

They sit in silence for a moment, looking out over the domain from their perch upon Vah Ruta. It's beautiful, and he wonders if this is how the Rito view the world. Everything is so small, so far away. It's freeing, like nothing can touch him.

Hopefully Zelda can see this when she's finished. Link looks towards the castle, where his Princess is speaking with the elder Zora about magical properties. His gaze had been glazing over when Mipha had asked him to talk. Zelda had given her permission, more than safe surrounded by Zora warriors and sensitive to his friendship with the Zora princess.

(He didn't really need her permission. But since their public betrothal half a year prior, they'd been even more incredibly careful about how they acted in public. The last thing either Hylian wanted was for rumors of a secret affair between the Zora Princess and the chosen hero. By asking her permission, Link had kept all three of their relationships untarnished.)

(His teachers would be proud.)

"I thought it funny how, being a Hylian, you looked grown-up so much faster than I did." Mipha's somber voice snaps him out of his thoughts. There's that strange quality to her voice again. The words make him laugh; he'd forgotten that Mipha was barely an adolescent by Zora standards. Technically, as a Hylian adult, he was older than her—despite their biological ages being so opposite.

He turns to say so, but the look in her eyes halts his hands.

"I was always willing to heal your wounds," she whispers, "even back then."

The glow fades, revealing his perfectly healed arm. He pulls his sleeve down and signs his thanks.

Mipha speaks, looking out towards the domain, but Link isn't listening to the content. He's more interested in figuring out the odd look on her face, and the uncharacteristic quality of her voice. In the fourteen years he's known her, he's never seen her like this.

"Maybe, when all this is over, we can spend some time together... like when we were young..."

He inhales sharply, realization striking him in the gut.

Resignation. That's what it is. Something has his friend upset and losing her hope.

And he won't stand for it.

"We will," he signs forcefully, "when we win, things will be even better than they were."

Link flashes her a smile, pouring all his confidence into his expression. Her responding grin is small and shy, but she manages it. It's enough for now.

When this is over, he'll see her true smile again.

* * *

She's never really understood his distrust of Revali.

All of her interactions with the Rito warrior had been polite, if a little bit cold. Zelda finds she can relate—Revali holds the world to a high standard, and himself to the highest bar of all. His trust is reserved for those who meet his expectations, and he doesn't waste his time with those who don't measure up.

She likes to think herself a little more compassionate, but otherwise she understands.

So, Link's instant distrust didn't make any sense to her. The two warriors were like oil and water, lighting and thunder meeting in battle. She couldn't wrap her head around why Link seemed unwilling to work in tandem with the other warrior, and Revali's borderline hatred of the Hylian absolutely baffled the young princess. More than that, it presented a potential problem for the team of Champions as a whole. They needed to be united, and that meant that the two warriors needed to get along.

Ever the problem solver, Zelda had left them alone while she studied the ancient magic of the Rito. They'd met with Revali almost immediately upon arriving and found that his updraft ability was only partially magical in origin. The Champion directed them to the Chief, who knew more about the mystic properties of their race. Zelda had gone alone, hoping that by being together the pair would work out some of their issues.

She'd filled several pages of her journal with information; the Chief had been more than happy to explain their entire history. It seemed that unlike Daruk and Urbosa, all Rito were able to use magic to an extent. When their genetic path had diverged from that of the Zora, they'd retained the racial affinity for magic. Certain members were able to hone their abilities, but the Rito were not blessed with as long a lifespan as their Zora cousins. As such, few of the Bird-like race ever developed their skills should they even show a knack for it. Developing magical skill took decades to use, and a kind of discipline to master that few had any desire to dedicate. Even amongst the Zora, few people decided to pursue the art—and typically Rito never bothered.

Revali was not a typical Rito.

Zelda had seen his updraft in motion, and if her own power was even half as impressive, she'd be grateful. Just imagining the amount of trial and error, the hours of practice and fierce determination...it made her dizzy.

Hurrying down the stairs, the dual flashes of Champion Blue catch her eye. Revali and Link are talking, and Zelda smiles to see her plan working. Surely, they will be an unbreakable team when they see how alike they are! She’s about to call out a greeting, when Revali’s voice drifts to her ears.

“All because you happen to have that little darkness-sealing sword on your back.”

Zelda drops her hand, shutting her mouth with a snap. Slowing her descent, she leans over the railing to better hear the conversation.

“It’s just...asinine.” sneers the feathered Champion, glowering down at the Hylian out of the corner of his eye. “Unless...you think you could prove me wrong?”

The grey archer takes a large, smooth step, his beak inches from Link’s face. Zelda’s hands grip the wooden railing as she bites her tongue—she knows her Knight values his personal space, and to have it invaded like this is as much a threat as if the elder warrior had drawn his bow. That Revali is almost a full head taller and looking down at her fiancé made her blood boil. Still, she waits. To intervene now will only make things worse, and she isn’t about to cause a commotion by attacking an ally.

Revali smirks, “Maybe we should settle this one-on-one? But where...” taking a step back, the Rito glances sarcastically around their surroundings. “Oh, I know! How about up there?!”

Feathered fingers gesture dramatically above them, where Medoh is gliding in lazy circles.

“Oh,” sniggers Revali, “you must pardon me. I forgot you have no way of making it up to that Divine Beast on your own!”

The Rito spreads his arms, feathers taunt and ready for takeoff, and lets loose his infamous updraft. The Princess feels the power, and underneath her rage rests genuine awe.

(That Link was able to remain standing despite being so close was also inspiring.)

“Good luck sealing the darkness!” comes the haughty call, and while she can’t see his expression, she’s certain that he’s smirking.

Zelda resumes her trek down the stairs towards Link, noticing the way his fingers twitch despite his impassive expression. He turns towards her as she approaches, expression unreadable.

“I have collected all I can,” she informs him, “so if you are ready...”

Her knight nods and gestures for her to lead the way. Technically, they have a standing invitation to stay at the inn within the village. Zelda does some quick calculations, and considering it’s only just approaching mid-day she doesn’t think it would put them in a bad light to leave the village all-together. Even if the stoic knight behind her doesn’t need it, she certainly needs some space to be able to clear her head.

They descend down the rock-towers in silence, Link keeping the respectful distance behind her until they’re safely out of sight. She longs to break the quiet—she isn’t really one for extended periods of nothing—but...her thoughts are not something she feels ready to share.

She’d known that Revali and Link didn’t get along, and what she’d seen and heard didn't really come as a surprise. The soundless journey forces her to consider why it had upset her so much.

She doesn’t like her conclusion.

It’s more than the disappointment of an experiment failing—the interaction reminded her of her younger self. Prior to the incident with the Yiga, Zelda had antagonized the man behind her restlessly. Well...it hadn’t been bad at first. For the most part, it had simply been indifference to his existence and competitiveness in classes. Not until he’d become her knight had she directly provoked him.

In the years since, she’d practically forgotten her behaviour. After her apology and attempts to get closer had succeeded, it hadn’t really mattered that she used to...to bully him. Not to her anyway, and he’d never brought it up.

Could he? It certainly would have made things awkward between them, and as neither of them had a choice in their futures...

The gentle nudge of his elbow in her ribs prevented her thoughts from spiraling. Looking up at him, Zelda sees bits of his true emotions starting to seep through his mask. They’ve passed the stable, walking down a path under a canopy of trees. She smiles at him and continues to walk until they’re a good ways away—doing her noontime prayers as she grabs his hand. He squeezes it encouragingly, and her smile grows.

...

He asks after her research as they finished their dinner, and her voice practically erupts out of her after being contained so long.

“It’s really quite fascinating!” she explains, “You’re aware that all the Divine Beasts are named for certain sages? Medoh is the only one named for a later sage, Medli, who assisted the Hero of Winds. It’s especially interesting because the specific sage was a child and was said to be an attendant to a dragon. A dragon! The dragon, Valoo,” she pauses to take a bite of her curry, “would grant the newly adapted Rito his scales so that they could fly. Overtime, his magic was absorbed into the race. You remember that, because they come from the Zora, they have the genetic potential to harness magic?”

Link nods, his smile amused and eyes attentive.

“Well, when Valoo eventually passed into the spirit realm with the other Guardian Spirits, he left his people some of his magic. Not just what they’d absorbed, but that more similar to the Zora. However, due to their shorter lifespan, they don’t teach or encourage the pursuit of the art like the Zora do. Revali’s powerful updraft is a result of the combination of that genetic potential, and several years of trial and error.”

“What about Urbosa and Daruk?” her knight inquires, helping himself to his fourth bowl.

“They are, admittedly, anomalies,” the Princess supplies, her fingers flipping through her journal, “While Valoo’s magic was attributed to Farore’s blessing, and that of the Zora seems to be garnered from Nayru, neither the Gorons nor the Gerudo have any direct ties to the Goddesses. Daruk’s power, however, mirrors a blessing the Hero of Time received from Nayru almost perfectly! But it seemed that it required that Hero to have gathered magic from the Great Fairies, and Daruk hasn’t even heard of them... 

“As for the Gerudo, Ganon was typically reincarnated as a Gerudo Male, so it would logically follow that Din had blessed the Gerudo. But!” Zelda scooches closer, tapping at her notes, “There hasn’t been a male Gerudo in several hundred years, and there’s no record of Ganondorf using lightning.”

She flips a few pages ahead and points at another line. “Daruk stated that his power was hereditary, passing through generations. That said, it is instinctive and doesn’t need instruction. Urbosa said that her powers are also generational but require not only instruction but proximity to their Heirloom over time. 

“It seems that much like Valoo’s scales, the Thunder Helm leaks magic, which is able to be absorbed by the wearer. Then, with careful teaching, the Gerudo chief can learn to use it.” Zelda hands her knight the worn book, open to a chart detailing the similarities and differences between the powers she’d studied and the limited knowledge of her own power.

“The Golden Goddesses spread their blessings generously, or so it appears from my research. But it seems that Hylia only ever blessed two people,” she reveals, “and it...it is more that she blessed their spirits? The Hero must be chosen by Farore, and when his spirit is reincarnated Hylia blesses him with the Master Sword—as well as increased survivability and advanced battle prowess.”

The princess studies the man next to her. His face is contemplative, his eyebrow drawn together, and his lips pursed. After a moment, he looks at her and raises an eyebrow.

“The other,” she answers, looking towards the fire and rubbing the back of her hand, “is the spirit of the Princess. It...” Zelda casts her gaze to the clouds, breathing in slowly and deeply. She wasn’t sure if she even believed the words she was about to say, except for the unfamiliar feeling in her soul these past months.

“It seems that Nayru and Hylia...combined their blessings. Actually—” excited green eyes met their blue counterparts, “The same is true of Farore and Hylia, although less is known about your specific blessing. But Hylia actually poured a significant amount of her power into the woman who would eventually become the first Princess. That girl received so much power that she...actually became Hylia incarnate.”

Link’s eyebrows shot directly into his hairline.

“When...when that battle was over,” Zelda drops her voice to a whisper, feeling it wrong to speak too loud, “Hylia took much of her power back. But Nayru knew that the battle would come again and convinced the younger goddess to leave a fraction of the power in the bloodline. That’s where my power comes from.”

They sat in contemplation for a long moment, while the Hylian girl tried to calm her racing heart.

“But...” Link signed, sensing what she had not wanted to say.

“But,” she relented hesitantly, “Urbosa told me of something my mother told her. It is typically forbidden to share the sacred secrets outside the family, so she didn’t know much, but apparently before she died, Mother received a revelation. And she told Urbosa, because...” the young princess took a deep, steadying breath, “because at that point, I wasn’t allowed to visit anymore.”

Link reached over and squeezed her hand, and Zelda used the contact to anchor her in the present.

“Anyway, the revelation was about the Spirit of the Princess. It seems that when Ganon’s spirit is sealed, and the current Hero and Princess pass on, Hylia keeps their spirits. When the seal inevitably begins to break, she releases them, but before she releases the spirit of the Princess, she...

“She places a larger portion of her own power back into it.”

The look on her knight's face would make her laugh if the implications of her research weren’t echoing in her mind, consuming all other thought.

“So,” Link began cautiously, “unlike your mother, you have the actual spirit of Hylia inside you? Like I have the Spirit of the Hero?”

Zelda nods, biting her lip and squeezing her hands together.

“But...you still have to pray to her?”

“Well...” she huffs, “It’s not as simple as that. The same way that you are your own person, despite having the Hero’s Spirit. Based on what I could discover, and combined with the relevant knowledge from our Champions, having the spirit is more about access. My grandmother could hear the voices from the spirit realm but couldn’t converse with them. Because she had the power, but not the access to the Goddess herself? It seems that the Spirit is...is like a door in a wall. My mother and grandmother could sit against the wall, and peer through the gap but never unlock or open the door. I have the keys, but only if I can find them.

“Each of the Champions revealed that their power came from within and that through hardship, prayer, and dedication they found the source and harnessed it. In theory... My power should be the same.”

Frustration bubbled inside her, battling the hope she’d been holding close these last months. Why could she not just...

Zelda exhales forcefully and shoves the thoughts aside. Rumination would do her no good, and Purah had taught her that sometimes the most important part of data collection was to wait and view the results with fresh eyes. She stood and gathered their bowls, rinsing them with one of their extra waterskins.

“Do you...want to talk about Revali? And what he said?”

Link’s face changes instantly, thoughtful expression disappearing. He rarely uses his mask when it’s just the two of them, so she’s able to interpret his answer.

“It’s just...” Zelda walks back over, placing the bowls into their pack, “he reminded me of myself, and I know I’ve changed—” she places her hands between them and he closes his mouth, protests stilled. “But I heard for the first time how hurtful I must have been. And I wanted to tell you...it’s not just the sword that makes you the Chosen One.”

His stony expression cracks, as though he doesn’t quite believe her. He’s clearly underestimated his adversary—she’s not one to make a bold proclamation without evidence.

“Your compassion and dedication, your righteousness and ferocity, your steadfast nature and courageous heart...these things are what make you the Hero.”

The mask breaks, his eyebrows tilting and blue eyes blinking rapidly. She smiles up at him, victorious, and receives his kiss with a laugh.

* * *

In all 18 years of his life, he’s never had a plan go this well.

It was a Goddess-blessed miracle. He’d talked with Purah and Impa, and between the three of them they’d managed to contact all the champions and arrange a surprise. It wasn’t much, but seventeen was a big year, and Link wanted to make it special for her.

The Princess’s mood had skyrocketed when he’d informed her of their impromptu trip, and they’d hurried from Tabantha to Kakariko, pausing briefly at the castle to drop off their horses. It wasn’t a long walk, and he knew that she’d rather take her time and explore nature than hurry on horseback. Which is why he’d very carefully arranged it so that they would have the full day.

(His Princess’s rumination early that morning, her obvious fear despite how he saw her clinging to hope...it made him glad he’d worked so hard to give her some down time.)

Purah and Impa walked with them, and it warmed his heart to see the three girls so happy. He’s glad Zelda is so close to the sisters, and thankful that he was able to give them some time together. Privately, he’s long thought that his Princess doesn’t get enough time to just...be, and her last day of ‘childhood’ seems the perfect time for that. Impa especially seems to compliment her—she’s the only person he’s ever seen who can make Zelda relax instead of wind her up. They had a picnic and camped the night together behind the Kakariko Matriarch’s house, and for those moments it was almost possible to forget about the approaching evil.

Urbosa and Aryll met them at the foot of the mountain early the next morning, which was the part of his surprise he’d been most worried about. It was a short ride from the Castle to Kakariko, but the Gerudo chief didn't have the ability and, despite being pushed ahead, Aryll didn’t have her own horse yet. It was a much longer walk, and even if they left right away, he was concerned that the groups would miss each other.

(Link had taken to training her on Epona, whenever he could spare the time. She wouldn’t be riding into battle anytime soon, but his sister was a quick study. He wasn’t happy that she was a squire at 11, but he felt better about it when he was the one teaching her.)

(Never mind that he’d been  _ knighted _ at 11—this was his baby sister!)

Mipha arrived not long after, emerging from the water Promenade gracefully. She was followed by Daruk, who shook the ground when he rolled in, and Revali, who’d landed just as they were about to ascend.

Urbosa brought  _ alcohol _ , which was supposedly Gerudo tradition. The resourceful chief also brought glasses fit for each race, so that they could all partake equally. He suspected it had more to do with the elder woman’s penchant for mischief—and delight in making his life difficult—but didn’t know enough about Gerudo culture to challenge her. He was, however, thankful that the glasses she handed to the Hylians were fairly small and respected that as a warrior-ruler she would know better than to inebriate them.

It didn’t stop him from shattering the one she’d tried to give to Aryll. He had no regrets.

All too soon it was time to ascend. Zelda shivered in her dress, but between the strong warming elixir and the Nayru-forsaken alcohol he doubted it was from the cold. It was only just barely midmorning, but her steely green eyes showed that they could wait no longer. His Princess snapped a quick picture of the arch (“It seems...important...”), took a deep breath and started their trek.

He followed beside her, gripping her hand and pouring encouragement through the connection.

After such a success, what could they possibly have to fear?

* * *

They’re walking through a large field of snow when it hits her.

Her mind runs overtime...had she really never asked? All this time together, especially the last year of running around the kingdom to inquire of the others...and she hadn’t asked him!

"May I ask... About the sword?"

Link raises a questioning eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"It's said that the sword responds to and bonds with the Hero's Spirit. And I wonder..." She bites her lip, searching, "as the only other being granted any kind of power from Hylia... What's it like?"

He frowns at her, face scrunching up in thought. She waits, watching the cogs turn in his head as he searches for the words to answer.

"...A moment?"

"Oh! ...of course."

It's not until they break for lunch that he taps her, lips set in a firm line.

"When she first called me, she sang."

Automatically, Zelda reaches for her notebooks. It's not there, of course, the brush of snow is a shock on her hand.

Wait...she?

"Do you mean Farore? Or Hylia?"

Link shakes his head and pats the hilt of the sword.

"The sword. I... she has a name, I think, but I haven't been able to discover it. When I found her, it was because she sang. The song..."

His face scrunches up again, "it was almost like an echo? Like it was something within me but... amplified."

Zelda nods, food forgotten.

Link draws the Master Sword, placing it across their laps. It's truly a magnificent blade, and she traces the gold lines snaking up the hilt.

"I haven't heard her since," comes the soft whisper from beside her, "except in... feelings. Normally they're just.... different versions of whatever I'm feeling. Separate but...not. Most often, it's a quiet addition in my head."

She nods absently, nibbling at the spicy meal in her hand. That hadn't been too different from what the other Champions had said, except that the Beasts were a wholly separate presence. It seemed like the Sword was separate, but not completely removed. Her eyes follow as her Knight sheaths it, staring at the purple handle for a long moment.

Link catches her hand as she stands to continue the journey.

"She recognized you"

Her confusion must show, because he sighs and takes a breath.

"The Sword? When we first met, she recognized you. I think..." blue eyes meet her own as his voice breaks, "I think she missed you."

Oh.

Zelda has no idea how to respond. Link squeezes her hand, and she squeezes back.

It's enough.

They make the rest of the journey in silence, apprehension crawling slowly upwards inside her. Somehow, it's as though her whole body is made of lead, and yet she wants to sprint the rest of the way.

Link's confession hadn't answered any of her questions, which wasn't altogether surprising. But having confirmation that there  _ was _ something inside her...

She just wanted to get to the Spring and get it over with as soon as she could.

* * *

Nothing happens when they reach the spring.

She hadn't really been expecting it, but it would have been nice.

She squeezes his hand one last time, waits for the return squeeze, and then steps into the water. Even with the elixir, it's cold. Not freezing, but enough to send a shiver up her spine.

(Or maybe it's from the pool of apprehension within her reaching out)

Zelda takes a moment to adjust, watching the ripples cut through the surface of the water and letting the movement bring her into a more peaceful state.

" _ Gradh òir a ’ghliocais, thig mi romhad a’ sireadh _ —"

_ "It's alright dearest, I'm here." _

The unfamiliar voice startles her, and she opens her eyes to look around. Nothing has changed, except the air and water around her has grown comfortably warm. Several blinks confirm that there's no one around, and unless Link has suddenly developed a very feminine voice...

The realization strikes her, "Nayru?"

" _ Hello little one." _

__

All at once she's choking on air, drowning and flying at the same time.

"My lady, I..."

" _ I know. I've been waiting for you—I hadn't anticipated that my decree would keep my own Chosen Child away from me." _

__

There's the sensation of a smile, and Zelda feels something examine her. It makes her squirm, to be scrutinized like this.

" _ Do not worry _ ," laughs the voice in her head,  _ "I am not judging you. Not by your definition of judgement." _

__

The Princess releases her breath and tries to relax. She doesn't quite make it, but a gentle reassurance washes over her. It's tempting to lean into the feeling of pride, satisfaction and love that is being projected but...

She can't allow herself the luxury.

"My Lady Nayru," she pleads internally, "please, I need your help. Ganon is coming and I haven't unlocked my birthright—I don't know how! Please, please...can you reveal it to me?"

The aura around her darkens—a deep blue where it was once a vibrant yellow. She actually feels the sensation of hands cupping her face, soft and gentle.

" _ My dearest Zelda...It pains me to say that I cannot." _

__

Everything stops. No...no she can't have come this far to have it end like this! No no no no—

" _ Peace Precious one,"  _ soothes Nayru, " _ it is not yet lost. I cannot unlock it for you, because it is already within you." _

Her brain refuses to form full thoughts, so the Hylian focuses on her confusion and pushes it outward.

" _ You've done so well," _ the Golden Goddess praises, " _ with improper instruction and no resources. Never before has one of My Children come so far from so little." _

There's sadness underneath the pride, and Zelda can feel the gentle hands of Nayru wipe away her tears.

"Then why can't you help me?" she whispers, desperation clawing its way outward.

" _ Because there is nothing more to do." _

__

"But I don't feel anything!"

" _ Of course not. Your power has grown as you have—just as you do not feel your hair grow, you would not feel your power bloom." _

__

"I don't understand," cries Zelda, wrapping her arms around her trembling body.

The feeling of Nayru drew closer, as though the deity had kneeled down. It makes the Hylian feel like a child, and she leans into the feeling.

(It was safe in a way she hadn’t felt since her mother had died.)

" _ You said yourself that Hylia made a door between the realms. It was an apt analogy, and I would like to use it again. _

__

_ "You are asking me to help you find the keys, yet they are already in your hand. You struggle because you have been told, all your life, that your power is to seal. It is so much more—my dear sister Hylia did not make you a weapon: she equipped you with the tools you will need." _

The words were a comfort, but it didn't help her situation. Zelda nodded, hoping Nayru would continue.

" _ You are holding the wrong key for the door, my love. Before you can seal, you must first trust in yourself—and that is something I cannot teach, nor can I grant it." _

"But how can I trust myself when I... when I'm..." she hiccupped, the words erupting from her mouth as well as her mind.

"How can I trust myself when I stand here as a failure?"

Nayru's countenance grew in sorrow, and Zelda felt her retreat.

" _ You are not a failure dear one. Not to me. I will love and help you, as will my sisters. Hylia is waiting beyond the door, you simply need the right key." _

Her dream flashes before her unseeing eyes, the woman in white warning her soundlessly. Hylia may be willing, but if the barrier remained...

Blindly she groped towards the fleeing presence of the elder Goddess.

"Please, there must be something! Anything!"

Nayru paused, and Zelda felt the press of a kiss on her forehead.

" _ I offer you this,"  _ the gentle voice pierced her soul, " _ when we choose our Children, Farore and I choose together. He has long trusted in your wisdom, lean now into his courage." _

__

When the Goddess broke the connection, Zelda was left with nothing. No spark ignited; no pieces fell into place.

The only thing she feels is her hope shrivel and die.

* * *

At first, things happened in slow motion.

It took days for her to leave the water, months to walk back down the mountain.

Everything came in flashes. Link handed her an elixir. He held her hand. He didn't ask, and some part of her was grateful.

Aryll was gone when they descended. It made sense—the younger girl had things to do—but it added an extra layer of sour.

The sun was setting. Another Birthday over.

Urbosa was trying to cheer her up. The words of the Gerudo chief were technically correct, but they didn't feel helpful.

Mipha stuttered and stalled while explaining her own power. The Hylian Princess almost wanted to tell the other girl to stop, that she'd had enough of advice and instruction.

She was exhausted, despondent, and truth be told she just wanted to have the day end and deal with everything tomorrow.

Then Calamity Struck.

Everything slowed to a stop when she saw the ghostly purple boar rise over the castle. Its roar shook her bones, reverberating into her core.

They were too late.  _ They were too late. _

“Come, we should go.” Slender fingers grip her shoulders securely, “We need to get you someplace safe.”

For a moment, she wants to agree. More than anything, Zelda wants to curl up in her Goddess-mother’s arms and let Urbosa hide her away. The young princess is unprepared, terrified, and absolutely drained.

But the words of Nayru tear their way through her cloudy emotions, echoing over and over with a piercing volume.

“ _ He has long trusted your wisdom, lean now into his courage.” _

Link is preparing to go do the castle. He is going to fight the beast, with or without her. He is going to face his destiny, knowing that without her power it’s almost impossible to win.

This time, it’s her own voice echoing inside her.

“ _ My promise is to be united as Zelda and Link. I will stay by your side from now until Hylia sees fit to part us.” _

__

If the Goddess wanted to part them, it wouldn’t be without a fight.

“I’m not a child anymore,” Zelda declares, turning forcefully out of Urbosa’s grasp to face the Champions, “I may not be of much use on the battlefield...but there must...

There must be something I can do to help!”

Daruk scratches his head, sheepishly looking down at her. “I dunno Princess...”

“I... I’ve been...” five sets of eyes turned to the Hylian knight, who was clenching his hands so hard Zelda’s scared he’ll hurt himself, “A few years ago, we...we trained. With bows.”

Oh, she could kiss him! That he would speak up for her—literally and figuratively—and with something concrete...

“It’s decided then,” Urbosa asserts, “Link and Zelda will go to the Castle. The rest of us need to get a move-on, there’s no time to waste!”

Her Knight pulls her down the path, leading her towards Kakariko. It’s nearly dark, and part of her wants to run all the way to the castle, to charge head-first and fight without stopping. It’s not logical but none of today has made sense, so she voices her thoughts to the man in front of her as soon as they’re alone.

He freezes and turns around, uncharacteristically stern.

“Zelda,” he signs her full name, warm blue eyes drilling into hers, “do you remember when I first became your Knight? The conversation we had?”

She nods, anxiety rising through her and tightening her vocal cords.

“What I said then, it applies more so now. This is my job, what I’ve trained and been chosen for, and I know what’s best. I need you to listen to me unquestioningly and follow me no matter what. If I say go, you go. If I say stop, you need to stop. Most of all, I need you to trust me to keep us safe, especially when it doesn’t make sense to you or is opposite what you feel like. Can you do that?”

“Easy,” her fingers reply.

That first time, trusting him had been torture.

Now, Zelda suspects it’s what will get her through.

* * *

It occurs to her that for all Nayru’s wisdom...the Golden Goddess isn’t the greatest communicator.

Because if she’d been more specific, Zelda’s pretty sure she’d have unlocked her powers ages ago.

Firstly because “Only the wise” shouldn’t have an age limit, and even so you’d think that there’d be a footnote about  _ Nayru’s Chosen. _ Secondly because it was simpler than it had been made out to be.

As it turns out, “Prayer and Dedication” were the tiniest fraction of what she needed to do. The advice of “trust yourself” and “look within” were at least equally as silly, if not more.

If she makes it out of this and has a daughter, the first thing Zelda’s going to say is “we are granted our powers when we put others above ourselves and extend the love we feel outwards.”

Was that really so hard to say?? She didn’t think so!!

She’d given up her borrowed bow almost immediately when they reached Hyrule Field. The remaining knights, squires, and all those more skilled than her needed every weapon they could get. As such, she resorted to pointing out trapped families, directing survivors to safety, and keeping as close to Link as possible. Despite her relative helplessness, Zelda’s empowered by her ability to do something worthwhile.

It had been a shock when, as she helped herd another family to relative safety, she’d felt the screams. Not heard—felt. For a terrifying second, the young princess had thought she was going mad, like some of the older soldiers had after returning from battle. There wasn’t time for that, so she ignored her fear and continued her efforts.

But then, as she and Link slowly fought towards Castle Town—directing the refugees and encouraging the other knights—she’d felt a scream come from somewhere specific. Letting her senses direct her, she saw a child frozen in fear as a thick as purple ooze bled swiftly towards him. She was struck briefly with a nightmarish vision—the child engulfed in malice, turning a transparent turquoise as he succumbed, his soul screaming in anguish as it was forcefully taken.

It wasn’t madness—it was power. Her power. Not to seal, but priceless nonetheless.

(Link certainly thought she was mad when she left his side, scooping up the child and running back. He was furious, but...she had to help. Even one life saved was worth the risk.)

By the time the pair had made it to Castle Town, the sun was setting on the first day of Calamity Ganon’s return. By the time the sun rose, Zelda could accurately predict where malice or guardians would be and how many people were around—although she struggled with differentiating between the souls of the living and those of the recently departed.

Most impressively, she had noticed a connection between herself and Her Champions. She could sense their determination to get home, desire to help, and readiness for the coming fight.

Castle Town was desolate, and she refused to let herself linger on the bodies of the dead. She could hear them, see their souls as they travelled the streets—unaware of their own demise and seeking safety. It made her sick; her newfound power didn’t tell her how to release them. Link had paused when she asked, brows drawn in concentration. Then he looked at the Master Sword in his hands and hilted his head.

“She,” he gestured to the Sword, “says that they’ll be at peace once we defeat Ganon. When he’s no longer a threat to them, they’ll move on.”

That...didn’t help. The blue-green ghosts loitered at the edges of her vision, and it was hard to remember the lives she’d helped save just a few hours ago.

They were almost at the Castle Gate when Zelda couldn’t do it anymore. Clutching at Link’s dirty tunic, she tugged on it gently to alert him to her need.

“I can’t...” rasped her desperate voice, “I... I can’t...I need...”

Link frowned, looking up at the overcast sky. “Okay,” he relented, “can you find us somewhere safe?”

Her head pounded as she pushed past her exhaustion, probing the nearby area with her very new ability. It was like overstretching a muscle, but she wearily led them to a deserted spot on the wall. It was mostly gone, but there was no danger around and she just needed a moment. Come to think of it...

“You should rest too.”

Messy, dark-blond locks swished in front of his eyes. “I don’t need it.”

The princess wasn’t quite so tired that she couldn't glare at her overly self-sacrificing fiancé.

He shifted so that he was squatting next to her, Sword laid flat across his knees.

“Someone needs to keep watch, and I’ve survived worse on much less sleep.”

“What could be worse than this?”

“That time when we came back from the Spring of Courage and that Sheikah Poet had prepared a four-hour performance about us. That was much worse.”

It felt wrong to smile with so much carnage around them, but as her eye’s droop closed, her mouth twitched up at the corners anyway.

* * *

Normally she loves the rain.

Then again, normally she isn’t wearing a thin dress and sandals, and she’s normally not running for her life through the woods.

Zelda outright curses as she slips again, the slick grass providing no traction. Link tugs her ever forwards, his keen eye vigilant for those hunting them.

They’d barely been through the second gate when the sense of  _ wrongness _ had descended on her. She’d gasped, clutching at her head and falling to her knees. Her knight had been at her side instantly, pulling her hands away from where they were tangled in her hair.

“This is wrong,” she’d mumbled before he’d put a hand over her mouth, finger to his lips.

Starting again with Sign, she fought through the fogginess in her brain. “This is wrong. There’s too few Guardians, and they’re not attacking civilians directly. They...”

The scientist inside her briefly took charge, examining the facts. Ganon had taken control of the Guardians immediately, taking out Hyrule’s weaponry. She could feel the Champion’s fighting within their divine beasts, meaning that he’d known about them too. If they were to fail, there would only be one threat to his power left.

Ganon had had 10,000 years to plan. After eons of reincarnation and defeat, she knew that she would use the time to strategize—to discover where she’d gone wrong and plan accordingly. It seemed that he’d discovered his error: he’d always conquered Hyrule first and faced his Fated Opponents after. The heroes of the past were always victorious when he’d divided his armies and drained his power.

Sudden clarity sparked between blue and green eyes, and Zelda shivered in horror.

Calamity Ganon wasn’t aiming to conquer the land—he was searching. For them.

And they’d almost delivered themselves to him.

“I have a place where we can go,” Link signed urgently, “my old family home in Hateno. We’ll hide there until your power is fully accessible and come back.”

Her Knight didn’t leave any room to argue. He practically picked her up and bolted—jerking her along with him, her shoulder burning as he basically dragged her. She struggled to keep up, almost suggesting that they attempt to sneak up on their enemy, but then...

“Link!” she shrieked as they crossed back into the ruins of the Town, “He’s found us!”

No sooner had the words passed her lips than four enormous pillars sprung from the ground. It was like she’d whacked open a beehive—hundreds of Guardians swarmed out of the structures and buzzed in her mind. She could feel their focus on them, locked on and in pursuit.

Out of desperation, she imagined a cloak covering herself and Link, repeating one thought like a mantra.

“ _ We’re not here. We’re not here. We’re not here. _ ”

Slowly, painfully, the Guardian’s presence in her head faded. When she regains the ability to perceive the world around her, Zelda discovers that they’re in the forest adjacent to the Hylia River. Sharp, cold droplets of rain pelt her skin, and her dirty white dress clings to her like a sticky bandage. Their desperate retreat stings her pride, and the howling of souls against her own spirit brands shame into her core.

The finishing blows when she feels her four friends falling, their pleas for help pounding a staccato in her very being as one by one the Champions die.

She feels the skin of her palms tear open as she skids on the ground, and leans into the pain. Link kneels in front of her, and she curls in on herself to try and escape the gravity of his gaze.

(He’s just concerned, she knows, but she...she doesn't deserve it.)

“How...How has it come to this?”

His rough hands land gently on her shoulders, but she doesn’t look up at him. She can’t.

“The Divine Beats...The Guardians...They’ve all turned against us. And everyone—Mipha, Urbosa, Revali and Daruk...they’re trapped inside those things. They...”

Fury raises her head, hands tearing the grass beneath her.

“It was Calamity Ganon! He took them from us, he...”

Bloody, dirt-covered hands cover her face as The Princess tries to disappear, all of the shame and anguish escaping her body in a desperate cry.

“It’s all my fault! Our only hope for defeating Ganon is lost all because I couldn’t harness this cursed power!” she dug her nails into her forehead, as though she could tear the power she needed out by force.

Link squeezes her shoulders and scoots closer, shushing her gently. He pries away her hands, and Zelda looks into his face briefly. She can see his sorrow and love mixed together underneath the soldier's mask, and it’s heart-wrenching.

Sobs tear through her. “Everything—Everything I’ve done up until now...it was all for nothing.

“ _ SO I REALLY AM JUST A FAILURE _ !”

She gripped desperately at his shoulders, all seventeen years of pointless pursuits threatening to drown her.

“All my friends...the entire kingdom...my father most of all...” the harsh whisper shredded against her throat, “I tried, and I failed them all.

“I’ve left them...all to die.”

Entirely spent, Zelda collapses into her Knight’s open arms. Overhead, the downpour intensifies as all of Hyrule mourns with its Princess. The pair of young Hylians stay until the rain ceases, and they hear the heavy clanking of metal appendages drawing ever nearer.

The Knight pulls the Princess to her feet and leads her hastily through the woods. The Princess stumbles, dazed and despairing, but they escape the forest regardless.

On the third day since Calamity Ganon’s awakening, they arrived at Blatchery Plain.

* * *

In all 18 years of his life, he’d never had a plan go so poorly.

Another Guardian sputtered, sparks flying out of the gash he’d left. It’s not dead, purple light pulsed ominously beneath the outer armour, but it seems disoriented. It will have to do.

The Master Sword's power is failing—he can feel her pain as she fights to keep her charges safe. More and more Guardians stalk the swamp, their spider legs stepping over the corpses of their brethren with ease. 

Link leaves the dying Guardian, it’s small eye darting around wildly, and limps back to where he’d hidden his fiancée. She won’t leave him, but he refuses to let her endanger her life. They’d compromised as the wreckage grew, leaving pockets of cover strewn about. So far, Zelda had listened and stayed hidden, occasionally moving with him if it looked like her cover would be blown.

He didn’t know how long their luck would hold out.

“Hurt?” he signs when he reaches her, eyes scanning her body. That they hadn’t had time to change her into something other than that goddess-forsaken dress irks him to no end.

(He’s always hated that thing.)

His Princess shakes her head, tapping the tip of her thumb onto her chest, other fingers straight up. "I'm Fine," she mouths, making the sign again, as though repeating it will make it entirely true. Her eyes travel to his leg, directly to the mass of open blisters. Attentive green irises travelled from there to his hip, where red began to stain the dirty fabric of his tunic.

He mirrors her, tapping his own stiff hand to his chest. She shouldn’t worry about him, he’ll manage.

Grabbing her hand before she can call his bluff, Link leads them swiftly through the plain. It’s a risk to leave this graveyard of Guardians, but if they’re going to get to Hateno they need to move.

Despair threatens to overtake him as they run. Hateno is still a half-day away. They’re both exhausted—they’d had to run through the night to even make it this far. There hadn’t been time—there still wasn't time—to take full stock of his injuries, but he knows that they’re extensive. Breathing is agony (at least one of his ribs is bruised if not broken, he’s sure), he’s losing blood and there is no way he’ll be able to keep running on his bad leg. Additionally, he doesn’t know if Hateno would be safe, the Fort was much simpler and less fortified than Akkala and he knows that most of the forces would retreat there.

Zelda tugs his arm sharply and he grunts in response, red hot pain surging through his body. The click-clack of metal breaches his darkening mind, sounding closer than he’d anticipated. The girl behind him drags him down to a crouch, and he takes it further by laying them on the ground, wrapping his arm protectively over her back. Hopefully, the dirt that cakes their bodies will blend them into the landscape—although even soiled it’s hard to miss pure white and bright blue.

The Guardian draws closer.

Link’s grip on his girls tightens.

He can see its slender legs tear the dirt, hear its gears click as its head swivels.

The Knight stops breathing and feels the Princess beside him do the same.

The Master Sword whimpers a warning. “ _ Stay _ .”

Sharp talons lift as the Guardian takes a step.

And another.

Two more.

When the girl next to him sighed in relief, Link notices the living weapon is walking away from them, it’s single eye revolving as it searches.

“I think I can hide us, at least for a little,” comes the muffled voice beside him.

He doesn’t respond, surveying their path. If Zelda can hide them, they have a chance.

...Although...if she can hide herself alone, he can buy her time. They’re a half day away, no help is coming, and only one of them can take on the Guardians.

“ _ Stronger Together.”  _ explodes the Master Sword in his mind.

A growl rumbles at the back of his throat. The sword is right, although he’s loath to admit it. To split up would be suicide—and if he dies, he has no way of protecting her should she need it.

Whatever protection Zelda provides is sporadic. Guardians pass them by as they run, only to advance on them minutes later. It’s certainly better than nothing, and Link’s determined that they will make it to safety.

The arrival of a large hoard of Guardians doesn’t dampen that determination. A surge of adrenaline overtakes him as the first red dot locks onto him, and he charges.

He’s felled at least two dozen, the Master Sword pulsing with a desperate strength that matches his own. The pain throughout his body is but a distant thought as he fights: hacking and stabbing at any and all metal he can reach, running between them so they shoot each other, and keeping their awareness away from the hiding girl not far away.

His vision begins to black, and it seems that—for the moment—Zelda’s powers are blinding his enemies. They have to make a break for it now, while the mechanical monsters are distracted.

Link’s only just reached her when the rush of energy fades, and he begins to sway. His princess catches him, and they exchange weary smiles. He looks up at her, sluggish thoughts humming happily as he takes her in. There are bags under her eyes, her hair is a matted mess, and she is absolutely covered in dirt. Her normally rosy cheeks are especially muddy, streaked where she's been wiping at her tears.

But the green eyes he’d gotten to know so well...they sparkled still. Her smile may be sad, but it’s there. She’s almost glowing, although Link is fairly certain it’s his imagination visualising his relief at having her here with him.

Despite everything, he doesn't think she’s ever been more beautiful.

He opens his mouth to tell her when he spots it. A Single Guardian has spotted them amongst the corpses and is scurrying over. It hasn't locked on yet, but they don’t have much time.

Link pushes Zelda behind him but falls to his knees without her there to stabilize him. At this distance a single blast from the guardian will kill them both, but he won’t let her take the brunt of the hit.

(If they’re going to die, he’s happy they get to be together.)

Zelda’s soft hands nudge his shoulders as he pants in front of her. “Link, save yourself! Go! I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me! Run!!”

As her knight, he can’t disobey a direct order.

Even if he could, Link wouldn’t. He loves her too much to abandon her. Biting back a groan, he hauls himself up to his feet. Both Hylians stumble back, and the Guardian locks onto them.

Onto him.

The Knight glares at the Machine, daring it to try. He will do whatever it takes to keep that little red dot on him instead of her.

“NO!”

Zelda pushes in front of him, radiating an ethereal light. Link watches in awe as holy energy pulses out from her raised right hand, a blazing arch that envelops the area. As one, the Guardians shut down, falling lifeless as Ganon’s evil leaves them.

He knew she could do it.

He takes a step towards her, to hug her and rub in that he’s been right all along—she was never a failure. Instead, he falls onto his side, words of praise instead becoming a pained groan.

She’s at his side in a moment, cradling him in her lap. She looks so sad, and she shouldn’t be. She’d just proved everyone wrong. She’d unlocked her full power, and when they make it back to the castle, she’ll be able to hold her head up high again.

He coughs and tries to grab her hand. He loves holding her hand, her soft skin rubbing against his calloused palms always feels so...right. She grabs it and pulls their joined fingers up to her cheek.

“You’re going to be just fine...” her shaking voice assures.

He looks into her eyes, trying to smile but only managing to grimace.

‘ _ Of course, I will, _ ’ he wants to say,  _ ‘I’m with you. _

His energy is leaving him, but he needs to reassure her before he falls asleep.

"My...Zelda..." he manages, fingers slow. He pours all of his love, pride, and encouragement into his expression, knowing that she’ll read what he isn’t able to say.

(His only regret as he falls unconscious is that he hadn’t been able to kiss her.)

* * *

She’s about to leave the forest when she hears it.

She’s antsy, power sparking out of her fingertips with her thundering emotions, and she wants more than anything to march right up to the castle and let loose. Calamity Ganon has done this to her, has ripped away everything she’s loved and fought for, so she’s going to tear him limb from incorporeal limb.

But even in her righteous rage, Zelda knows better than to ignore the Master Sword.

“ _ Your Grace,” _ calls the tired voice, “ _ There is...one thing yet I must ask of you.” _

The young princess stills, humming her permission for the sword to continue.

“ _ While it is your duty to make haste to the castle and seal the Beast, I have learned from my Master that certain things are more important.” _

__

Zelda’s stiff posture softens, but she says nothing.

“ _ Visit my Master before your fight, _ ” pleads the dimming voice, “ _ to strengthen your spirit, and assure his is at its proper rest. _ ”

She nods resolutely, “I will. We will meet again, the three of us, and there will be peace.”

The Sword sings a final, a parting song, its fading melody filled with hope and sorrow. Zelda breathes deeply as she stands at the entrance of the Lost Woods, adrenaline and nerves overriding her previous fury. She knows that Link is alive—she can still feel him, still see him in her mind’s eye. But to face him again...

She wishes for his courage.

Exhaling through her mouth, the fully realized Princess focuses on her power. When the Sheikah had taken Link away, the Master Sword had taught her about a latent power—one only available to the Chosen Princess. It was difficult, and Zelda found that it took a great deal of energy to do, but it was the only way she could get across the kingdom to the Great Plateau.

(Could she still call it a kingdom? The burning fields without a King?)

Latching on to the light within her, she inhales and visualizes the Shrine. She imagines its door, focused on an empty place just inside, and exhales.

As her breath leaves her mouth, she feels her body change—no longer a physical body, but a stream of energy. It’s exhilarating, flying throughout Hyrule without being tethered to the physical plane. Absently, she notes that if she retained this power, she may never walk for errands again. Science and pleasure yes, but this is a much better way to travel otherwise.

In the blink of an eye, her feet are on the ground again. The rest of her follows, energy condensing into the body that she knows. The pain and exhaustion of the last four days returns in full force, and Zelda has to reach out and use the stone wall next to keep her balance.

Over the pounding in her ears, she hears screaming. Familiar screaming, though she ca n’t make out the words.

Rushing down the stairs and through the long corridor, she's greeted by a sight that was simultaneously comfortably familiar and foreignly horrifying.

Impa and Purah stand on opposite sides of a deep stone basin, yelling at each other. In the years that she’s known the sisters, Zelda's seen them fight over countless things: as small as book preferences or as large as who would inherit the Sheikah matriarchy. At first glance, this seemed no different than their usual bickering, except for the sight that held the Hylian transfixed.

Link sits upright at the edge of the basin, eyes narrowed, body riddled with burns and bruises. He holds onto the sides of the tub, white knuckled hands at the ends of shaking arms. He'd blinking slowly, as though fighting to stay awake, and staring up...

...at the teal ghost hovering above him. A perfect likeness.

His soul.

The ghost is stretched thin, as though an unseen force is trying to pull it away. One hand reaches towards the body, it’s hand in a fist. Its face holds no features, but the way it drifts steadily closer to the physical body of Link spoke of the stubborn determination that she knew so well. As she walks closer, silent footsteps not interrupting the arguing sisters nor drawing Link’s gaze, Zelda takes note of what the soul is doing.

In its translucent hand is Link’s wedding band. The green leather tear stands in contrast to the glassy palm. Looking back up at the scene in front of her, she's reminded of the myth of the bands: to exchange bands was to adhere a piece of one's soul to another.

Link's using the piece of herself that she had given him as an anchor, a way to stave off his body’s attempts at perishing.

It's touching, and Zelda's taken aback, breath catching in her throat. He was trying so hard, and soon...

“IT NEEDS TO COME OFF!”

The shout jolts her out of her thoughts, plunging back into the world of tragedy as though a bucket of ice water had been poured over her.

“You know as well as I do what the Hylian Tradition says!” Impa retorts, “Even in death they don’t remove the bands!”

“I don't CARE!” spits Purah, reaching for the braided necklace, “If we leave it on, his skin will grow back overtop of it, and that could KILL HIM! I absolutely refuse to end up losing him because of sentimentality!”

Impa smacks her sister’s hand away, the sharp  _ slap _ of skin on skin thundering in Zelda’s brain. Panic rises up inside her—if they take the band off, then his soul wont have anything to use as a tether! How could they not...

But they can’t see the soul, she realizes, and the scientists in her knows Purah's right. To leave the foreign material would end his life, but so will removing it.

Squashing down the rising fear and ignoring the continuing argument, the Princess forces herself to walk calmly over to the pedestal where the Sheikah Slate rested. The control unit for the Shrine. If any solution were to be found, it would be here.

Whispering a prayer to Nayru, her slender fingers gingerly touch the slate. Instantly it responds, pulling on her power and drawing it up. She meets it halfway—the Shrine wasn’t sentient, nor was the slate, but they seemed to hold some kind of...intelligence. It was almost like talking to a child, the energy that rose to meet her was overwhelmingly willing to please. She pushes and it responds, sensing her desire and eagerly taking in the necessary information. When she's sure that it understands the task, she withdraws.

Gently, she closes the distance between herself and the eldest Sheikah, placing a hand on the small of Purah’s back. Both sisters jump at her seemingly sudden appearance.

“It’s alright Purah,” she interrupts smoothly, “the Shrine recognizes the foreign material. We've come to an agreement: The Shrine will restore him around it, not over it.”

“How did you...” sputters the older girl, “You...talked to it?”

Zelda nods, removing her hand from the other woman’s back.

Purah’s eyes bulge, and her mouth open to protest until her red irises land to the back of Zelda’s right hand. Zelda follows her lead and finds the golden Triforce still pulsing a strong light beneath her skin. The researchers look up at each other after a somber moment, and Purah withdraws to the control unit.

“If you could get him to lay down,” she states, cadence full of false cheer, “I can get this process started.”

“Of course,” the Princess agrees, “Impa, may I ask a favour of you?”

“Anything.”

“I need a painting done of Ash Swamp in Blatchery Plain. When he awakens, he needs to know what has happened. The pictures in the Sheikah Slate will aid him, but...” her breath catches, threatening to break, “I... I wasn’t able to get a picture of...there.”

Impa shoots her a sad, understanding smile. “Consider it done.”

“One more thing?”

“Once again my friend, I will do everything within my power to help you both.”

“Thank you,” she smiles, fighting back tears. This, she knows, may not be within the other girl’s abilities. “I need you to deliver a message to Link when he wakes up. He will need help defeating Ganon, and he will need his Sword. Tell him...” she took a stabilizing breath, her words becoming steel as she spoke.

“Tell him to Free the Divine Beasts and Reclaim the Master Sword. Make sure he knows the importance of this—if he faces the Calamity alone, this will have been for nothing.”

The Younger Sheikah nods solemnly. “I swear that the message will be given, exactly as you have spoken it.”

It takes considerable effort to not run into the other girls’ arms, to hug her and thank her over and over again. But she can feel herself draining, her body giving way to its exhausted state, and Link’s spirit is being pulled further and further from them every second.

She needs to act now.

Reaching not for his physical body, but for the empty hand of the teal apparition, Zelda calls out. Not with words, but with feeling, pushing her power out towards him.

His soul grabs her hand, and the smooth coldness of it shocks her momentarily. She doesn’t let go, their feelings melding together into a beautiful duet. His desire and determination trumpet at her, the fear that he's slipping away blasting through. She meets it with her own assurance of their safety and pending healing. Her own pride at his courage, bravery and loyalty wraps the trumpeting blasts, soothing the brazen tones into a much gentler medley. The song reverbs through her, wild at first but steadying into the consistent rhythm of a heartbeat.

( _ I love you _ says their pounding hearts in unison,  _ I love you I love you I love you.) _

__

She guides the soul into its body, and Link wakes fully with a gasp. He tenses, body ready to spring up out of the basin, hand already going for his sword.

Zelda brings her own hands to his chest, gently but firmly pushing him down.

His glassy eyes dart wildly around the room before meeting hers. She doesn’t think he can see her, but he relaxes at her touch. Gingerly, she lays him down, softly singing the lullaby her own mother used to use to comfort her after a nightmare.

His eyes focus just as his head touches the stone pillow of the container. There are a thousand emotions in the blue irises, questions and statements that she doesn’t have time to inspect or answer. Instead, she places her hands on his temples, and leans down to touch their foreheads.

“Link,” she breathes, “You are our final hope. The fate of Hyrule rests with you.”

She draws back slightly as his eyes close, hearing the tub slowly fill with healing liquid.

Despite her weariness, a sense of resolve begins to build. It takes almost no effort at all to imagine the Castle, her Home, and find the energy that will transport her there.

(She plants a soft kiss on Link’s unconscious lips as she dissolves, feeling his portion of their duet fade into silence.)

When her eyes open, it’s to the sickly purple of Malice. The evil discharge is everywhere, and for a moment she feels like a flickering candle in the dark.

An earth-shattering roar alerts her to Calamity Ganon’s closeness, her holy light providing a barrier between her mind and his. She feels his anger at her presence, his lust for her power, and his hatred. Hatred for the Goddesses, for Hyrule, and for her.

She meets it head on, determined that the Being who took everything from her will not prevail. She’s going to take everything from him now, save her people, and restore her kingdom.

Zelda smiles.

At 17, she has more than enough love to triumph.


	5. Knit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To conjoin or unite closely and firmly (contiguous members, broken parts)

He has no idea how old he is.

To be fair—there’s not much he  _ does _ know about himself, and his age isn’t really at the forefront of his mind.

The voice in his head had called him Link, and told him that he was “our light—that must shine upon Hyrule once again.”

He has absolutely no idea what a 'Hyrule' is or how to ‘shine upon’ it, but the voice had pulled at his heartstrings and stirred up a stormcloud of emotions. He’d grasped the pendant on his chest as a reflex, feeling that it was somehow connected to this mysterious voice, and known that he would not rest until he succeeded at his mission.

(When he’s left to his own thoughts again, he finds it’s a lonely place. He can’t explain it, but he wants the voice to come back and talk to him more. Not just so that he won’t be alone, but something about that voice made him feel...nice.)

* * *

He’s standing stock still at the top of the tower, horror rooting him in place.

“You’ve been asleep for almost 100 years...When the beast regains its true power, this world will face its end.” Slimy purple clouds swirl around the castle, and the deformed boar's face inside it lunges at him, its jaw unhinged. Link knows that he’s too far away to be threatened, but that doesn’t make him feel any safer.

“Now then… You must hurry, Link. Before it’s too late…” the glowing sphere from which the voice seemed to come from grew, swallowing the evil smoke and drawing it back into the castle.

It takes him several long seconds to process that information. He barely knows his name, only has the slightest inkling of where he is, and he’s already been given a mission to save the world.

Taking a deep breath, Link readies his courage.

He’s got work to do.

* * *

There doesn’t seem to be a pattern to what exactly he remembers.

He’d grabbed a stick off the ground in desperation when the red monster attacked him. He uses it to beat his attacker back, swiping and jabbing it with effortless skill, and it’s impossible to say who’s more surprised.

He steals a bow and quiver of arrows from a monster camp while the beasts are cooking and screaming. This too comes naturally to him, dispatching his enemies is as unchallenging as walking.

But he falls four times trying to climb a tree, and steps on the loudest branch in the forest when trying to sneak past the weird old man who seems to be everywhere he turns.

It takes him twenty minutes to figure out that he has to  _ twist _ to get the apple off the tree, but it’s instinct that tells him which nuts and greens to cook it with, and the result is so delicious he’s in tears.

His body seems to remember things his mind doesn’t, and the dissonance would be frustrating if it wasn’t so helpful. ...It’s still fairly frustrating, but he can’t really complain.

When it comes down to it, he’d rather be able to defend himself than pick fruit.

Then there’s the things that occupy a kind of...grey area in his head. Things he almost remembers but can’t place.

The shrines, for example. He knows immediately what to look for, and where to find them. Link’s sure that it will provide some kind of new information about him, and yet he’s absolutely floored when it responds to his touch. He’s never been inside a Shrine—of this he’s one hundred percent certain. But he’s just as sure that he’s seen the outside, and why would he have seen the one but not the other?

He knows the old man as well. Or he did, before...before. They’re sitting together outside his house, and despite his offer the Man won’t let Link cook for him. It twists an uneasy knot in his stomach, to be served by this stranger. Something tells him that it isn’t right, that Link should be the one serving him—for all that he’s technically a guest. Sitting down to eat with him twists the knot tighter, and it gives the young Hylian a headache.

(He’s also...irrationally angry at the man. Something about his mostly veiled face makes his fingers itch for a fight, which makes no sense whatsoever. The Elder may be cryptic and strange, but he’s been generous and kind.)

And then there’s the pendant around his neck. The leather teardrop is in pristine condition, which surprises him considering how long he’s been asleep. Its slight heaviness is comforting, swaying lightly when he reaches towards the cooking pot for another helping of rice.

“I understand your memories are still returning,” starts the hooded figure across from him, “but may I ask... where did you get that?”

Link tilts his head, mouth full.

“The...necklace?”

Link swallows heavily, one hand reaching protectively around the green droplet. The fingers of his other hand twitch, and he longs to use the signed language that he’d apparently retained. It’s easier, he finds, to speak with his hands than with his mouth, but the Old Man doesn’t understand the gestures and Link isn’t opposed to verbal conversation.

“I...” at least, he hadn’t been opposed. But his answer feels personal, like it's something he holds dear and doesn’t share. It makes his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth, the next words almost painful to let go of, “It... I had it. When I woke up. It was already with me.”

The Old Man takes a sharp breath, and Link feels more than sees old eyes resting on his chest. The silence is oppressive, but the young Hylian can’t figure out why.

“It feels...special,” he admits eventually, “Like it was a gift maybe? I... when...when the voice speaks to me, it...”

“It feels connected to the voice?” provides the Man, his tone taking on a strange, sad quality.

Link nods, smiling. “It does. Whoever that voice is, however we’re connected, I know that this is a part of it.”

The Old Man hums in acknowledgement. Link gets the idea that there’s more to be said, the familiar feeling that this elderly figure knows more than he’s letting on, but neither says any more about it.

The next morning, there’s a journal and a note laying next to where he’d made camp.  _ For your memories, as they return  _ says the tight, curved script.

Using the attached pencil, Link writes everything he’s learned over the last day. The letters are messy and wobbly at first, but as the muscle-memory returns to him it becomes more recognizable. He discovers that, although he fights with his right, he writes with his left. Working on keeping the charcoal from smudging terribly takes even more practice, but he manages

Having regained a part of his identity—even as small as his writing style—almost makes up for the fact that he doesn’t even manage to fill half the page.

* * *

With three shrines down, he thinks he’s starting to get the hang of this.

The puzzles had been challenging, certainly, but it’s...fun. Learning to use the powers within the slate brings out an awe and wonder that has nothing to do with his missing memory—how many people ever got to freeze time, create a pillar of ice from still water, or effortlessly throw giant metal objects around?

(He’d enjoyed helping the Old Man too, even with something as trivial as a forgotten recipe. The knowledge that he’d made a difference in a life gave him a warmer feeling than the doublet he’d received as payment.)

Confident with his recent victories, Link hurries to the next marked point. The sooner he completes these tasks, the sooner he can get the paraglider, the sooner he can...

Well, he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it. One thing at a time.

On the map, this place is called the “Eastern Abbey”. The name tugs at him, familiar, but he ignores it in favour of scouting his surroundings. His feet lead him, knowing the way around the decaying walls with the ease of practice. There are no monsters here, which Link finds odd. All he can see are the moss-covered remains of several metal statues. The structures remind him of overturned pots, narrow tops widening to large bases with long appendages sprouting from them. Many of the extended attachments are gone or burrowed into the ground like roots seeking water. There are screws littered around the figures, but Link doesn’t go to pick them up.

He doesn’t know why, but the idea of getting close to them makes his heart race and his jaw clench painfully.

The young warrior draws an arrow, suspicious now that he’s certain the area is deserted. What could keep even the monsters away, and will it be an ally or a foe?

The entrance between him and the Shrine is blocked by a pile of rocks, and he doesn’t see any metal he could use to destabilize it. Searching with the slate would mean putting his bow away, and his gut tells him that there’s danger all around him. Frowning, he moves to get a closer look at the blockage.

A deep crunching noise draws his attention, and he watches as the “statue” to his left  _ moves _ . Pebbles fall as the top half separates from its base, a thick cloud of dirt billowing outwards. Bright blue light shines through the cloud, but it’s a menacing pink that pulses through the various swirls as the structure comes to life.

For a moment, Link stares into its solitary blue eye, arrow ready.

The next second, his chest erupts with pain and a scream threatens to rip its way through him. He fires the arrow but misses wildly, hands suddenly clammy and shaking.

The laser only misses him because he falls to the ground, head spinning.

He has no idea how he escapes, but the next thing he’s aware of is the cool stone wall behind his back. The ground shakes as he curls into himself, the sharp whistles and beeping behind him alerting his ears to his enemy.

Shaky breaths make their way in and out of his body, but it still feels like he’s drowning. He can’t get air into his lungs no matter how deeply he inhales. It’s terrifying, and he scrambles to remove his shirt to get rid of any obstruction. The evening air is cool on his soaking body, but something about having the threadbare piece of cloth off of him is even worse than not breathing. He goes to remove his necklace, but a fresh spike of horror halts him.

Another explosion rocks the world around him, and Link opens his eyes with a gasp. He uncurls violently, the sudden sharp pain where his stomach meets his hips pushing every other thought from his mind. He can’t see where the pain is coming from, and his hands come away wet—but with sweat instead of blood. He can’t find where he’s been injured, and his vision fogs and darkens.

He blinks several times, trying to clear whatever mist is in his eyes, but...

The problem isn’t his eyes, it's his head. He can  _ see _ just fine, he discovers with dread, but nothing makes sense.

His heart is beating in his throat, hammering an erratic pulse that pounds through his body.

His leg burns, pain radiating in time with his pounding heartbeats.

His brain has gone numb, a sound like the rustling of leaves echoing in his mind and preventing him from thinking.

Distantly, he can feel his fingernails digging into the skin on the back of his neck, but it’s like they belong to someone else—he can’t relax or release them.

There’s the sound of another explosion, but it's far away. The ground doesn’t shake, and no more pieces of the wall break off behind him

The fear and pain don’t subside.

Link falls onto his uninjured side, curling up as tightly as he can and covering himself with his discarded shirt. If he’s small, and hidden, perhaps he’ll survive. The...thing will move on, and he can go and find...

Another wave of panic surges through his body, and he tenses as it hits. He has to go find...someone. Someone he’s...he’s supposed to...

She must be so scared, and he’s failed her, and he’s going to die again, and then she’s going to die and...

He doesn’t even remember  _ who she is _ let alone where he told her to hide!

The throbbing of his leg and side doubles as the tears pour out of him, broken sobs muffled only by his fist in his mouth. The feeling of failure, of doom and worthlessness cycle around and around in his mind like a cyclone, and he grips the pendant of his necklace like a lifeline.

_ I’ve left them all to die... _

__

_ I’ve left them all to die... _

__

_ I’ve left them all to die... _

__

...

When he comes back to himself, the sun has set. Hundreds of stars shine above him, both comforting and mocking as they twinkle in the dark night sky.

Link takes a deep breath and is relieved to find that while it’s still shaky, he actually feels the air travel through his body. A quick examination of his body shows no real injuries—blood on his fingernails and itchiness on the back of his neck tells him that his only wound was self-inflicted.

He keeps breathing, sitting up and placing his shirt in his lap. He doesn’t force himself to move, and he closes his eyes to focus on centering himself. A prayer comes to his memory, the unfamiliar language crossing his lips without any real intent on his part.

“ _ Din, thoir dhomh an cumhachd a bhith a ’stiùireadh, Farore, thoir dhomh an gaisgeachd a leantainn, Nayru, thoir dhomh an gliocas airson aithneachadh, Hylia, beannaich mi le do ghràdh. _ ”

Whatever he says is comforting, and his breath corrects itself automatically to match the cadence of the phrases. Most importantly, it takes his mind off of the quieted enemy behind him. He repeats the words slowly, focusing on drawing the translation out of his memory.

It takes him two more repetitions, but he figures it out. Writing it in his journal allows the last of the terror to leech out of his body, leaving only his exhaustion and confusion.

He’ll deal with the last Shrine tomorrow.

Which means he’ll need to camp tonight.

Which means he’ll need to move.

He really doesn’t want to, and he’s not sure he has the energy, not to mention...

In his quick once-over, he’d avoided looking at the places he’d been in the most pain. It’s irrational, and his instincts scream at him, but...

Link’s not sure what exactly he’s afraid of: that he’ll see the terrible injuries he  _ knows _ are there or that he won't. He’s not sure what would be worse.

Ultimately, his instincts win out.

His side is easiest, so he starts there. The skin far from flawless, hundreds of thin white scars covered in dirt, but there’s nothing alarming, and he lets out a relieved breath. He’d expected to be bleeding out, although with his mind clear he can’t think of why—he hadn’t been hit at all.

His leg is...more telling. Rolling up his pant leg reveals a patch of raised, red flesh the size of his hand. Gingerly, he touches the still-tender area only to discover that it was firm tissue, not mangled skin. The young Hylian draws a finger around the scar, tracing it and prodding the area around it.

None of his touches increase the lingering discomfort, and as he inspects it, he feels the sensation ease somewhat.

Another mystery.

He’d be angry, if he weren’t so drained.

Link shifts carefully into a crouch, pleased and confused that both his legs bear weight. He crawls away, making sure to stay below the walls until he’s a good ways away from the Abbey. Then he breaks into a sprint to the nearest place of guaranteed safety—the Old Man’s hut.

He grabs a pot lid the next morning, getting the distinct feeling he’ll need it.

Whatever intuition had fled him the night before returns, and he reflects the beam directly into the open eye of the machine.

(He only gets to feel the pride for a moment before his entire breakfast is expelled. He’s shaking and crying when he finishes, but he thinks of it as an accomplishment anyway.)

* * *

When the King fades away, the spirit disappearing before his eyes, Link just...sits down.

He sits on the decaying roof of the Temple of Time, staring in silence at the open Plateau before him, trying in vain to process everything he’d just heard.

It’s...a lot. The new information meets his own void of memories in a violent crash, and he doesn’t even know how to begin sorting through the rubble.

He’s not even sure he wants to.

Inside him is a maelstrom of emotions: shame, fear, anger, and determination. The King hadn’t outright stated he’d failed, but overall, that’s what it came down to.

_ I’ve left them all to die. _

__

The Champions...had they been his friends? Had they been close, or was it simply duty that bound them together? What were their names? Had he helped them, before he fell?

_ I've failed them. _

__

He was supposed to have a sword, a legendary sword. Where was it? Why wasn’t it put to rest with him in the Shrine of Resurrection? Had it been stolen? Lost? Was he that careless?

_ Some hero... _

Link buries his face into his hands. Then there was...

Zelda.

He was supposed to protect her. He was supposed to protect her! And instead, he...he’d died. He’d forced her to face Calamity Ganon alone and kept her waiting for nearly a century.

Yet...

She’d woken him up. She’d called him “light” and “hope”. She’d asked that he be placed in the Shrine, failure or no failure.

“ _ Link…You are our final hope. The fate of Hyrule rests with you.” _

__

The memory floats through his mind, her melodious voice softening the edges of his shame. He doesn’t remember her face, but he knows somewhere deep within him that she hadn’t been disappointed in him.

She’d saved his life, and she was waiting.

It was time to return the favour.

* * *

Jumping off the edge of the Plateau was not as hard as he thought it was going to be.

The wind whips at his hair as he soars, whooping and hollering. His shoulders burn in their sockets, and his arms shake with exertion, but this is easily the most fun he’s ever had.

It’s over too soon, never mind that he’s panting and sweating when he lands on the large boulder. Adrenaline surges through him even as he catches his breath. He could easily climb down from the rock he’s standing on, but instead he jumps with a manic grin, gliding down as his joy skyrockets.

He hits the ground running, and lets the momentum carry him. He’s sure that he looks ridiculous, running with the large paraglider above his head and smiling so wide his face hurts, but Link couldn’t care less.

When his energy is finally depleted, he stores the Paraglider in the slate next to his journal. (It strikes him as odd, that he can store things in the tiny device on his hip, but he’s not going to question something that works.) Then he pulls up the map, trying to memorize where the blinking dot is in relation to what he sees in the physical world.

It’s useless—the map is blank except for the Great Plateau and the marker that shows him where to go.

The King had told him to go past the Dueling Peaks, which he can see from here, to find Kakariko in Impa Village.

No...to find Impa in Kakariko. That was it.

There’s a tower close to the mountains, and Link’s sure that heading there will provide him with a clearer path. He doesn't think it will be a detour—it looks to be in the same direction as he's headed—so he sets off towards it.

* * *

When he arrives at Kakariko, a strong sense of nostalgia washes over him. He recognizes the gatepost, but nothing else sparks remembrance.

Not even Impa.

(There’s a misplaced sadness when he sees her, a stray feeling that boils down to  _ so much lost time _ . It radiates from his chest, where the pendant hangs, and Link isn’t sure the feeling is entirely his own.)

The withered Sheikah Matriarch tries to test his conviction, and anger bubbles up inside him.

"Definitely." He responds, index finger harsh as it swipes down from his chin. He scowls, accenting the word with as much resentment as possible.

She’s not phased. “Ha! Not a memory to your name, yet you are as intent as ever to charge forward with only courage and justice on your side!”

Her acceptance doesn’t exactly soothe his thorny mood, and while she tells him of his history, he works to calm himself. He nearly manages it until he discovers that the Sheikah Slate isn’t fully functional, and that he’ll have to make another trip to fix it.

He bites down on a yell, not wanting to panic the guards outside, and pulls at his hair. It’s like his whole body is electrified—charged with trapped energy.

Impa sends him a kind look, sympathetic but not pitying. She lets him calm himself, making herself busy while he struggles to control his breathing.

“I will send word ahead for you,” she says at length, “and provide a horse for the journey. Hylia knows these old bones won’t be going anywhere!”

She laughs, slapping her knee merrily. Link has to smile, her joy contagious.

Ultimately, he decides to spend the night at Kakariko. It’s Impa’s idea, in order to give the Hateno Tech Lab time to prepare for his arrival. Link suspects it’s also to spend some time with him, but he’s not opposed at all.

They spend the evening talking about the world, and he’s grateful. Impa makes sure to keep the topic away from the devastation, and Link makes no effort to steer it there. The closest they get is when Link asks about his prayer, and the elderly Sheikah gives him a crash course on the entire History of Hyrule—from the world’s creation to its current state.

(It’s the first conversation he’s had with someone that he doesn’t feel out of place.)

Paya stops him the next morning as he’s preparing his borrowed horse. Like many things, the motions are ingrained in him, and he lets his body work without thinking. He notices the young Sheikah as soon as she arrives, but she stands several paces back from him, trembling and muttering. Link wonders briefly if he should go over to her and end her misery, but ultimately decides to give her some space.

When she makes it over, she hands him a note with the hand not covering her face.

“Grandmother asked you to ask me...no no... asked me to ask you to...to give this to...to Grand-Aunt Purah. And to make sure that you’re wearing your band outside your shirt.”

Link blinks at her. "My... What?"

Paya squeaks.

“Your...bedding wan—WEDDING BAND!”

He jumps, startled less by her outburst than the revelation.

Paya is bright red, shaking like a leaf and peering at him through her fingers. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry I—” she starts to back away, but Link  _ really _ would like some clarification.

“Paya wait...it’s okay I just—” his own voice falters as he tries to comfort her amidst his own confusion, “What...what’s a wedding band?”

Several very awkward seconds pass. Almost a full very awkward minute. Eventually the young girl squeaks out an explanation, but it’s so high-pitched and fast that Link doesn’t get most of it. The noises are accompanied by several lightning-fast signs, almost none of which he recognizes.

He wants to clarify, but the poor girl looks like she may soon be sick. He shifts on his feet, not quite ready to leave yet since he doesn’t know exactly what he needs to do, but also not wanting to impose on his clearly nervous host.

“Oh...what is the Hylian sign for it...” he hears her mumble, looking away from him. Paya’s eyes widen when she remembers, and makes a motion with her hand, her middle finger and thumb coming down from her neck and meeting in her chest.

It takes Link a second to place the sign—he knows without thinking that he normally uses the two-handed variation to talk about Wedding Bands—but then the pieces click into place.

His necklace.

...His necklace...that he’d woken up with.

...The one that makes him think of Zelda.

Which would mean...

The flustered Hylian stops that train of thought before he can complete it. He doesn’t want to deal with those emotions right now. Those are for later. Much later.

He thanks Paya, his own voice cracking just as much as hers, and rides off.

(He hands the note to the not-six-year-old, wearing the pendant as requested.)

(Hearing a string of words so foul come out of a body so young shocks him, until he reads the note.)

(Right in the center of the paper, in a shaky but elegant script, is written:  _ Told you so _ .)

* * *

_ Dear Zelda _ _ Princess, _

__

_ Thank you for the pictures. They haven't brought back any memories yet, but I'm optimistic. _

__

_ Thank you for saving my life too. _

__

_ I'm coming as soon as I can, _

__

_ Link. _

* * *

__

_ Princess, _

__

_ I got your message from Impa. I'm doing as you asked and making my way to the Master Sword. Or...I'm trying to. No one knows exactly where it is. I still don't have my memories, but... _

__

_ It's strange, I can hear music sometimes, when I'm alone in the quiet. It's guiding me north, and it... _

__

_ It's probably nothing. But I needed to tell someone, and you're the only person who won't call me crazy, since you can't read this. _

__

_ Thanks for sort of listening, _

__

_ Link _

* * *

__

_ Princess, _

__

_ Your father gave me this journal to write my memories in. But I...it doesn't feel right to me. _

__

_ So, uh...I decided that I'd use it to... write to you. About me. As a way for you to get to know me, and for me to...also do that. _

__

_ Of course, you’ve not lost your memories... _

__

_ This is dumb. _

* * *

__

_ Princess, _

__

_ I discovered something about myself today. I obviously don't know if I ever shared it with you, so I'm sharing it now. Better late than never, right? _

__

_ I've reached the Woodland stable, and it was not a fun trip! There were lots of still active Guardians, and I basically raced my way here. _

__

_ It's not cowardly by the way, it was self preservation. I wasn't scared, I'm just trying to get to the Master Sword as soon as possible so that I can save the world, and fighting Guardians isn't helpful to that right now. _

__

_ Anyway, I'm at the stable and I was really tired, yeah? And I'm sure you know, but when I get tired it's really hard for me to talk. I mean, with my voice. Not that there's anything wrong with me or my voice! I just prefer to use my hands, especially when I'm tired. I'm sure I was like that before, so don't worry—it's not a defect or anything! _

__

_ I start to ask for a bed, absolutely dreading the misunderstanding I'm sure is about to happen, when the Stable Owner stops me. I was mad at first, cause he interrupted, but then he said that one of his workers knows Hylian Sign! _

__

_ I didn't know that was what it was called, and I guess I looked confused because he said that he would be back and that I shouldn't doubt him. Well, he comes back with this girl and sure enough, she understands! _

__

_ Zelda _ _ Princess, I was so relieved! It was honestly incredible, and the two of us started talking. And then I heard something, a branch cracking or something. I'm not sure, but it  _ _ scared _ _ startled me. I thought maybe it was a Guardian, and I was not at all prepared to defend everyone. _

__

_ It turned out to be nothing, no Guardian came out and no monsters either. But Breen (the girl I was talking to) was really surprised that I heard it. I guess she thought I couldn't hear? So, she asked me if I could talk with my voice, and I said I could, but preferred to sign. Then she asked me where I learned, and I just answered without thinking. _

__

_ Apparently, I learned from my Mother. She was deaf. I've thought a lot about my family, and this is the first thing I remembered! _

__

_ (I got really excited, and I think I weirded her out, but it whatever.) _

__

_ Breen asked about you. Sort of. Not you specifically, but I had my necklace out. I guess it's pretty recognizable as an engagement thing. She asked what you thought about my parents, if you could sign or were willing to learn. She wasn't being mean but...I don't know. I couldn't answer, so I made up an excuse and told her I needed to gather supplies for my trip tomorrow. _

__

_ I don’t understand why some things come back so easily, and others just...don’t. I even waited to see if maybe I would remember if I didn’t think about it, like what happened with my Mom, but...nothing. I’ve been thinking about it all evening, with no luck. _

__

_ Did I ever take you to meet my parents? Did you like them? Did you sign, or did we just speak and write? _

__

_ I know you can't answer, but I can't sleep with all these questions. Writing to you, even though it's pointless and dumb...it helps. _

__

_ By this time tomorrow, I aim to have the Master Sword. Then all I have to do is free the Divine Beasts, and defeat Calamity Ganon. _

__

_ We'll talk then, I hope. _

__

_ See you soon, _

__

_ Link. _

* * *

__

He hadn’t expected this.

It makes a sick sort of sense, but...

It was like the entire world had conspired to wound him again—as though passing through the ruins of villages wasn’t enough of a reminder of his catastrophic failure.

Link had risen with the sun that morning, the singing birds providing a pleasant alarm. He was exhausted, having slept only a few hours due to a mixture of frustration and anticipation. The bright morning air was warm, leftover frost melting into its proper dew, and it energized him.

The meal he created, a rice pudding with shredded carrot, chased any leftover weariness from his bones.

He was ready to face the Woods and reclaim the Master Sword.

Working his way through the heavy fog was challenging, the smiling faces in the trees mocking him with every failure. Creatures would race across the path suddenly, causing him to stumble into the magic haze and be transported back to the beginning. He discovered he could use his torch to find his way, watching the flame for guidance, only for it to suddenly and inexplicably go out and leave him stranded.

It was like the woods didn’t want him there and were doing everything in their power to prevent his journey.

(Hindsight, as they say, is perfect.)

When he finally makes it to the clearing, it’s deserted. He can hear Koroks chittering, their bell-like voices tweaking his awareness, but none come to greet him. Even the leaves are still, tense and rigid despite the breeze.

Instead of triumph, anxiety blooms within Link as he approaches the pedestal where the Sword rested. Something is wrong, and he has no idea what it was.

“Well, well...” booms a voice above him, “it’s you.”

Looking up, Link traces the voice back to the tree in front of him. The huge mouth enunciates slowly, it’s grandfatherly voice vibrating the ground below his feet. The Hylian is overcome with reverence, and only stops from bowing due to his shock.

“Hrm...it seems you’ve finally decided to return. Although...” large wooden eyebrows shift, “you seem...not quite yourself...”

His breath catches in his throat, fists tightening by his side.

“Do we know each other?” he grinds out, fighting to stay polite.

“Know each other?!” the tree thunders, “Child, we are connected in ways you cannot imagine! I have raised you, guided you and watched over you in countless lifetimes—I dare say you are more than ‘known’ to me!”

Link stumbles back, the volume of emotion throwing off his balance. “I’m sorry,” he signs, “I’ve lost my memories. I didn’t mean any offence. I’m here for the Master Sword—”

“Lost your memories? Hrm...yes. That would explain it,” the tree seems to mull the information over, his large mouth chewing in thought, “I have watched over Hyrule since time immemorial. Many have referred to me over the ages as the Deku Tree.”

The name doesn’t spark any recollection in Link, but he elects to remain silent. No use antagonizing this spirit further.

“You have lost your memories...yet you seek the sword?”

Link nods, relieved at the change of subject.

“Hrm...I will warn you, although you were its chosen wielder, much has changed in your absence. The sword will test you, and should it find you lacking...

“You will pay with your life.”

A cold, metal ball spawns in Link’s stomach as he turns his gaze back to the sword.

“As you are now, I cannot say whether you are worthy or not.”

Fire met the cold within as fury filled the young Hylian. He was constantly being tested, constantly doubted...and yet the duty was still his. If he really were not worthy, why was he here?! Why had he been spared if not to make amends?!

“Will you try,” drawled the Deku Tree, heedless of the Hylian’s rage, “despite knowing the dangers?”

“Yes.”

Kind laughter echoes through the forest, the tense atmosphere lessening. “Once a hero, always a hero, it seems. Best of Luck young one...”

Link blinks back surprise, rage not stated but prevented from rising. His anxiety is quick to return, and his hands shake as he reaches towards the hilt.

It’s like reaching through sludge, the air around the sword thick and his arm like stone. Concentrating on his duty, on his desire to fulfill his destiny, on Zelda, he strains towards the sword. He touched a finger to the purple hilt. Then another. And another.

When he’s gotten both hands wrapped around it, he lets out a breath. He isn’t dead, although he notes if his heart keeps its erratic rhythm the fact could change.

As he inhales deeply, readying himself, a song floats through the back of his mind. It penetrates his soul, and tears spring to his eyes. He remembers this—the song, the presence of the Sword, it’s constant companionship. He’d missed it and hadn’t known until now.

And then...

He pulls and a bright light explodes, flinging him violently from the sword onto the ground several paces away. Ears ringing, he draws himself up to his knees.

“What in...”

“ _ I’m sorry Master, but I will not let you fall again.” _

The voice in his head is familiar, each word its own melody. He stands, approaches the sword again, hand outstretched.

The sword glows blue, and the voice returns. “ _ Master...please. I do not wish to take your life!” _

__

He pauses, still reaching out. “Then don’t.”

“ _ It is not as simple as my choice...” _

__

Link can’t believe this.

“It is,” he yells, “It is that simple!”

“ _ No, Master, it is not. The past—” _

__

“I know! I failed, and I need to fix it! But I need your help, you...you have to!”

The melody changes, and he can sense her despair and regret.

“ _ Master... do not doubt yourself,”  _ she chides, “ _ I have been calling to you since you awoke, against my Mistress’s desires. Were it in my power, I would not have been separated from you. I know your courage; I sense your determination. I fought with you, and find no blame on your shoulders for the events of the past. I am ready to be at your side again, after our long separation.” _

__

“Then why,” he pleads, “won’t you let me wield you?”

“ _ My mistress forbids it.” _

__

“Zelda?” he exclaims, betrayed, “But it was she who sent me here, and she was the one who—”

“ _ No... Her Grace similarly sees no fault in you.” _

Confusion becomes his primary emotion. “Then who...”

“ _ Neither I nor Her Grace condemn you,”  _ the Sword repeats, “ _ Mistress Farore has reclaimed you as her Chosen One and is ready to aid you. It is my Mistress Hylia, my creator, who has forbidden my assistance.” _

__

He’s speechless. A habit long dormant pushes the turbulent feelings towards the place where the Sword resides within him, and her song changes tune once more, wrapping him in comfort.

“ _ All is not lost, My Master. Mistress Hylia...much of her spirit resides in Her Grace, and the love that Her Grace has for you...it has softened the heart of the Goddess. You are still the Chosen of Farore and bound to fate. My mistress, therefore, has created conditions—with the aid of Mistress Nayru—that will allow us to be wholly reunited. _

__

_ Are you willing to accept these conditions?” _

__

“Yes! Yes, I’ll do whatever you ask,” Link can hear his desperation, ashamed of his begging but understanding its necessity, “Tell me what it is I must do, and I will do it.”

The melody grows in volume and strength, the blue aura emanating from the sword growing in tandem. The light and sound cocoon Link, soaking him from the outside in. It’s overwhelming, pushing him to his knees and almost making him cry out. He bites his tongue, the staggering sensation familiar; he’s felt it before.

He’s 11, grasping the sword in the middle of the night after following its call. He accepts the responsibility that comes freely, desiring nothing more than to help.

He’s 15, chasing after her would-be assassins as a frantic refrain alerts him to the danger.

He’s 18, clinging to life as a second song pulls him away from the brink. The first song, the one that has been his companion for years, fades to a whisper—but never abandons him.

He’s a child, leaving home for the first time with music as his guide and a fairy of his own. He’s a wolf, howling along to the aria in his soul. He’s a conductor. His flute bridges the gap between this world and theirs. A knight following her into battle, diving beneath the clouds, splitting himself in four.

Link opens himself and sees over and over again the opera of his spirit: watches as the notes weave through countless lives and innumerable heroes.

_ “Know yourself,”  _ sings the Goddesses who have chosen him, familiar and foreign, “ _ Learn who you are. Save yourself first, then come back for Hyrule.” _

His senses clear as the holy aura leaves him, seeping slowly away. He's grasping the sword, kneeling before it. His knees are stiff, shoulders sore and fingers cramping around its ornate hilt.

Link weeps, overcome, and doesn't move.

“Hrm...” observes the Deku Tree, “The sword remains, but...there is something different about you, my child.”

Link only stares up at the ancient being, not sure if he can explain what has happened. Or if he wants to.

“Yes...you are more yourself,” continues the deep voice, “and I have a feeling we will be seeing you here again?”

The Hero nods, jaw set resolutely.

“Good! Better late than never, but...” the tree smiles, “not too late. Even my patience has its limits, you know.”

Link smiles back, unstrained despite his draining experience.

The melody of the Master Sword echoes softly in his mind.

* * *

He’s 118...he thinks.

The number seems right: he’s not entirely sure of the date or when his birthday is. And no one would believe him if he told them, but having an age is...

It makes Link feel like a person, like he has an identity. Something about it validates the scars running up and down his skin and connects him to the person he used to be.

Here, at Zora’s domain, being 118 isn’t so shocking.

Many of the younger Zora greet him warmly, treating him as a long-lost friend. It’s encouraging to meet (reunite with) people who know him but have no expectations of him. They don’t seem to mind his memory loss, or if they do, they move past it quickly. For his part, Link’s happy to be in a place that radiates freedom—the friendly atmosphere allows him to drop his shoulders and smile.

(He ignores the sneers of the Elder Zora, confident from his royal invite that he’s wanted and unwilling to let their dirty looks mar his mood.)

King Dorephan is too busy to meet with him on the evening he arrives, but Prince Sidon assures him that they are grateful. The sanguine prince promises that one night won’t make the difference, and Link doesn’t get a chance to argue before he’s ushered to a room and bid an animated goodnight. The room is larger than any he’s stayed in—at least to his knowledge. A round bed jiggles slightly in the center of the room, and a lavish stone desk sits underneath a curtainless window.

He begins his nightly routine as he always does: writing any recovered memories or given information in his journal. It’s normally quite therapeutic, but tonight he doesn’t manage more than three lines. He moves on to writing a ‘letter’ to The Princess, just to tell her about his day. This practice always causes a thrill of nerves to crawl up his spine, a shyness causing his face to heat and his cheeks to darken, but...he doesn’t try to kick the habit. It feels natural to talk to her, and on the days he's chosen not to, the young Hylian finds he doesn’t rest.

For all that she’s a stranger to him, Link finds it comforting to imagine sending her these ‘letters’, perhaps even reading them together when they’re reunited. The mental picture of them looking back and laughing at his early adventuring days brings a smile to his face.

The height of the jump he manages on the waterbed turns the smile into a gleeful laugh.

* * *

Pledging his help to the Zora is easy.

His gut tells him it’s the right thing to do; he’d do it even if it wasn’t directly aligned with his goals. There’s a humming in the back of his mind, muted but passionate, telling him he’s walking down the correct path.

Convincing Muzu is much more difficult and gathering the arrows from under the nose of a Lynel is nearly impossible.

But what stops him dead—causes bile to burn his throat and tears to pool in his eyes, is hearing Mipha’s voice.

He’d remembered bits and pieces of her throughout the day. Her serene gaze, her healing power, her deadly skill. The memory of the two of them atop Vah Ruta, hoping for the future...it had been devastating, but in a distant way. He’d grieved certainly, but in the heat of convincing the elderly Zora to trust him with information...it hadn’t been at full force. He’d been too focused on his quest to pay attention to his feelings.

The Hylian is full of adrenaline, hand shaking with energy as it places the Sheikah Slate onto the pedestal, high off of his thrilling success in mounting the Beast. He doesn’t notice the gentle nudge of another soul greeting his, or the relieved spark of in his mind.

Link  _ absolutely _ notices the strain in her voice, spinning around with his sword ready. He remembers mid-spin that his dearest friend is beyond his help—only her spirit remains.

It’s crushing, to instinctively search for a way to stop her suffering only to be rendered helpless.

(What guts him is not even having the memories to back his feelings, the torrent of emotions bouncing off the void in his mind)

“I’m so happy,” she admits, genuine relief coating her soft voice, “to see that this day has finally arrived.”

“Me too. I’m sorry it took so long...”

“Link,” chides the Zora spirit, “it is better that you have come at all. Do not let your regrets tarnish your accomplishments. With your arrival, Ruta can be free of Ganon’s control.”

Link nods, hastily wiping his eyes before the tears spill over. “You always know just what to say.”

Her responding laugh is quiet, and he can hear the struggle in it. “It has always been my specialty. But Link...”

The change in her tone ties a knot in his stomach, his grip tightening on his sword.

“I’m afraid that without the Sword of Evil’s Bane...you cannot free Ruta. She is possessed by a portion of Ganon’s spirit, and nothing short of Holy Power will expel it.”

He wants to scream, to dive right back off of the Beast or to tear out his hair.

“There must be something I can do...” he says instead, the words tumbling out of his mouth like toads.

For a moment they are still, the only sound is Vah Ruta spewing water to the domain below. Link focuses on calming his breath, relaxing his muscles one by one so that he is ready to fight and not locked in place. He can feel Mipha pondering and forces himself to be patient.

“If you can purge the five terminals, I can regain enough control to cease the water-flow. That will keep the Domain, and the rest of Hyrule, from flooding. It will not be enough to help with Calamity Ganon—”

“It’s enough,” Link sighs, relieved, “It’s enough. We can protect the people, and when I reclaim the Master Sword I’ll come back. Can you hold out that long?”

Mipha’s spirit laughs again, challenging and determined.

“My dear friend, I am Zora! I will maintain this as long as needed. Now, you’ll need a map to prevent you from getting lost...”

...

It’s not until he’s cleansed three terminals that he realizes.

The Zora tunic fits him perfectly. Mipha made it for him. Because she loved him.

And logically, Link knows this. He’d been right there when it was revealed. But he’d assumed that it had been the kind of love between friends—none of his memories of the Zora Princess had involved any discussion of the romance, and he’s sure his relationship with Princess Zelda hadn’t been a secret!

But then...the White Scale is placed in the exact location that his pendant falls—directly over his heart.

_ "Maybe, when all this is over, we can spend some time together..." _

__

He doesn’t remember his response, but he can see the look on her face. It’s like she’s right there, the off-white scales of her face glowing in the setting sun, amber eyes sparkling with...

With...something. Some unknown emotion repressed either by his imperfect memory or her own desire.

She had  _ loved _ him, had planned to propose! Had he turned her down? Had their union been forbidden, and his engagement to the Hylian Princess merely a political move to save face?

Had...had he loved Mipha?

(...Had he loved _ Zelda _ ?)

He knows, feels the bond between them warmly within him, that he’d thought dearly of the Zora girl. He’s certain that he’d loved her in a way, there could be no other explanation for the way her voice brings out a smile. Or how deeply it hurt him to witness her suffering.

He’d loved her, yes, but how? As a friend, or a partner?

Stepping directly into a pool of malice, Link curses. The Warrior spots the hanging eyeball attached to the purple ooze and dispatches it with more satisfaction than he would normally feel.

He imagines the receding purple sludge as his turbulent feelings, willing them to retreat and leave him alone. 

(The uncertainty refuses to be pushed aside, as does the intrusive fact that he may never discover the truth.)

* * *

He couldn't feel any more disconnected.

There's a celebration in his honor upon Link's return to the Domain; he's hailed as a saviour and a hero.

It feels...wrong.

Only the Hylian and the Zora Royalty know that he wasn't able to free Mipha's spirit—he hadn't thought it right to keep that bit of information from them. King Dorephan and Sidon are incredibly understanding, extending their welcome to come back and finish the job as soon as he has the necessary tools.

(As though there was ever any other option.)

The pair even allow him access to Mipha's diary, providing viral information about his past. At first, it's amazing to read about himself as a child, defeating a Lynel, and besting adults at swordplay despite being barely more than a toddler.

It doesn't appear the Zora Princess was much for journaling, and her father confirms she was more a woman of action. It fits Link's faint idea of her, but...

He'd hoped that maybe he'd be able to recover more.

Mipha's writting makes no mention of his family, or their relationship. The closest he gets is knowing that she'd planned to propose after the Champion's Ball, which he doesn't remember at all. That's the final entry, with no explanation of what comes next. No idea of if she’d done it, or how (if) he'd answered. It leaves a weird taste in his mouth, and none of the delicious food at the feast cleanses his palette completely.

The joyous music and lively celebration go on around him, and although he smiles and laughs along with his friends and the children, Link can't quite connect with their rejoicing. His attempts to join in are like trying to hold water in his hands.

...

He leaves early the next morning, sneaking out of the Domain just as the first snippets of daylight break over the horizon.

The morning air is refreshing, almost completely chasing away the previous night's lethargy. Link lets the growing light motivate his journey: he’s intent on finding some of the pictures from the slate.

(Hopefully, Princess Zelda has left him good memories. He trusts that she has given him what he needs, but Nayru-willing they’ll be pleasant as well.)

The first two memories he finds don’t fit the sunny atmosphere at all. Watching the kingdom fall, and hearing of the death of the champions...

He tries unsuccessfully to mark them down objectively, to note only the important parts and leave his chaotic emotions back in the haze of forgetfulness. When he comes out of the second memory, from the rain and mud and dual despair into light and fresh and alone, he’s angry.

Angry at the Princess, for leaving him these photos. Angry at himself for failing. Angry at the birds for singing and the sun for shining—didn’t they know what he’d lost?? He walks down the river, violently throwing pebbles into the rushing water. Externally, he’s alert and listening for enemies, but internally his mind is churning. Feelings and details come back to him as he moves, like echoes. He throws a new stone for every darkened thought.

He remembers talking to the Princess on the way up the mountain, the tense atmosphere. Waiting while she stood in the water of the spring, seeing the faintest glow that faded when she got out. Her dejected silence as they hiked back down and trying to think of anything he could say that would encourage her attempt without invalidating her feelings.

His surprise at her saying that she hadn’t felt anything. Sticking up for her when she wanted to fight. ( _ Put her in danger...Why had he done that? _ )

He remembers the exhaustion of running. Keeping guard while she slept, her powers draining her as they awoke. They’d helped with the evacuation. He’d...he’d encouraged and led troops. He remembers that some of the warriors had been...young. Unusually young—unfortunately young, they’d barely been able to shoot straight. He taught them to fight Guardians, despite having so little information. Speculated on weaknesses and showed them how to reflect the lasers.

Had it helped? Had it been enough? Had he saved lives, or inspired young men and women to charge headfirst to their deaths? ( _ Judging by the surviving population, he suspects the latter. _ )

Impulsively, he dives into the river. The cold-water shocks him out of his downward spiral, and he lets the momentum carry his floating form downstream. It’s pure coincidence that the bank he crawls out onto triggers a memory, but he’s thankful when he comes back to himself that it was a comparably pleasant one.

The coincidental nature of being soaking wet while reflecting on their rainstorm conversation draws out a small smile.

Between his semi-improved mood, and the comforting warmth of the fire, Link is able to ignore the creeping loneliness that arises as he sits alone (where she was once with him).

* * *

Thunder booms overhead, rain droplets pelting his skin like arrowheads.

Mechanical clicking stalks him, the heavy clunking growing closer. He doesn’t dare turn around to gauge the distance, too afraid the motion would slow him down. The Master Sword is heavy in his hand, and his fingers hurt from their vice grip on its hilt.

His breathing is erratic, like he’s drowning. The sky bleeds purple and red, Malice floating like ash, and he’s choking.

But Link won't stop running, not for anything.

There’s pain everywhere—his ribs are bruised if not broken, hip bleeding and sword-arm numb. His vision blurs as he blinks blood out of his eyes, knots in the trees turning to sharp toothed smiles. Every clack of a metal talon slamming against the ground burns his head.

The trees seem to glow, luminescent pink oozes through their sneers and wooden eyes. Their leaves rustle, turning inwards and the canopy traps him.

Them.

A hand is torn from his grasp, and Link turns around. He can’t lose her, he refuses to—even at the cost of his life.

Except that...he’s too late. Her legs are already partially covered in Malice, the living slime eating her slowly before his eyes. She doesn’t scream as the substance coats her body, although he’s sure that it must hurt where it meets the gashes in her fins. Her scales have faded, a paler version of their normal brilliant red. He’s running back to her, the few paces seeming like an eternity, and their eyes meet. Mipha sends him a resigned smile, full of love and despair.

“We will spend time together,” her voice doesn't waver as she’s consumed, “when this is over...just like when we were younger.”

The Malice seeps through her smiling mouth, piercing through her eyes as he watches, helpless. Link reaches back for the Master Sword (he can still save her!) only to have his hand grasp the empty air.

“How could you forget me?!” the Malice screams, taking the form and voice of his Zora friend, “You have not even honoured my memory!”

Farore’s Chosen One flees from the abomination. He hears the squish as it collapses in on itself, see’s it spring from tree to tree until it’s in front of him again. Link backs into a tree, stumbling on his weak and blistered leg. Except it’s not a tree, it’s a Guardian husk—lifeless and empty.

The blob of magenta sludge slithers towards him, and he can’t get his body to move. His heart is hammering, smoke and tears burning his eyes. Link watches as the glob rises and transforms into a young girl with a sword. “She” pleads with him, only her voice is incomprehensible.

He knows she’s asking for help, and he reaches out towards her—but she’s gone.

In her place is Zelda, dress torn and eyes red from crying. Her skin is broken, patches of Malice showing through the scrapes on her cheeks and arms as she kneels before him.

“I wonder, then...” she gasps, clearly in pain, “should you have chosen a different path? Even my patience has its limits...”

Link opens his mouth to respond, but instead of words, a bright beam of light shoots out of his mouth, barely missing her. Zelda collapses regardless, directly into his arms.

He shifts her so that he has one arm free, cradling the shaking girl close.

“I’m sorry,” he signs, “I’m so sorry.”

The shaking stops, and the young hero isn’t sure if she’s still breathing. Lifting his head to look for help, he sees that the forest is filled with corpses. Mipha and Sidon, Impa and Purah, hundreds of Knights and his Zora friends lay lifeless in front of him. Nearest to him is the Mystery Girl, no older than 11. One leg bends out in an unnatural angle, dark-blonde hair matted and burned. She’s covered in cuts and bruises, but her grey eyes still have light in them.

Link reaches out towards her. She reaches back. Their hands meet, as do their eyes.

She opens her mouth to speak, cracked lips parting to reveal missing teeth—

...

Link jolts upwards, the last embers of his fire still glowing softly. He’s gasping, gulping in air so hard that it starts a fit of coughing. He wants to cry, but the sobs are strangled by his need to stay silent, to protect them.

It takes him a moment to realize his arms are empty. ( _No!_ ) It sends a fresh wave of fear through his already trembling body, and he staggers to his feet ( _He can’t lose her again!)_ only to fall after a few small steps. He lands heavily on his hands and knees and lowers himself the rest of the way, lying face down in the grass. His heart is still beating erratically, clothes clinging to his body, and he’s sweating despite the cold.

A nightmare.

Only a nightmare.

He’s safe, and the dawning knowledge allows him to lay still while his body rides out the attack. In his hypervigilant state, he’s certain he’d hear if a monster was nearby, and the absence of any unusual sound soothes his rattled senses. The young Hylian focuses on the sharp feeling of the grass beneath him, bringing his arms up underneath his face when the sensation becomes overwhelming. He shifts his focus to the fireflies, their lazy patterns of moving light stabilizing his breathing.

It was only a nightmare.

It’s already fading from his mind, only the dark tendrils of fear holding onto his exhausted mind.

(Which is not as comforting as it should be)

Link tries to get up, to move back to his fire or his pack. He doesn’t want to sleep again, so he needs to either stir up the flames or continue his journey to Hateno. His body, however, isn’t as opposed to slumber as his mind—so he ends up rolling over onto his back and staying there. Even that little effort is too much for him, and despite the spike of terror his eyelids flutter closed.

The rest of the night is dreamless, but he wakes uneasy and unrested.

(The bitter taste of defeat stays with him for the rest of the day.)

* * *

It’s a series of coincidences so bizarre that he doesn’t even fully believe it.

He’d travelled to Hateno, telling himself it was to visit Purah about the slate but more honestly because it was the one place he didn’t feel...guilty. The village was almost untouched by the Calamity, or the Age of Burning Fields that followed, and exuded a calm and stability Link craved—especially after confronting Mipha’s spirit and people who remembered his failure.

(He always felt safest in Hateno, like getting there was an accomplishment. Hateno meant rest, and Link was tired)

The colourful buildings had caught his eye, vibrant cube towers standing out in the dreary rain. Then he’d spotted the rustic structure across the river and he’d been drawn towards it like a moth to flame.

The house was dilapidated, falling apart at the seams. The garden was overgrown, weeds and unruly grass coating the landscape, a rotted wooden fence peeking out from the brush.

Link tried the door to no avail, it seemed that the lock was the only thing still viable. He spotted an empty campfire not far, looking recently deserted, and decided he would wait until whoever owned the house returned.

(The Hylian had no idea what he would say when they did return, but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.)

And... well...he couldn’t let the house be destroyed! 3,000 rupees was a lot of money, but Bolson kindly offered to take Rubies and Sapphires as a down payment. Getting the wood was easy—trees were no match for  _ bombs _ , and the Slate could hold a near infinite capacity.

And that was odd enough—that the house he’d been drawn to in the only place he felt safe was purchasable. That he’d been able to talk to them before it had been demolished, haggle down the price, and buy the place with the gemstones he  _ happened _ to have had just been...too much.

Things got weirder.

Purah had mentioned the researcher Robbie, saying that he may be able to help with weaponry while he worked towards the Master Sword. Link had set out immediately to Akkala and had crossed paths with Bolson Construction not far from Hateno Tower. They were being accosted by a rag-tag group of bokoblins, so Link had stepped in. In exchange for him dispatching their attackers, the Company promised to trim up “his” yard.

Then they’d met again. And again. And again. Always the same, the trio of workers would find their way into trouble, Link would provide his services, and another addition to the house would be offered as payment.

(He didn’t even really want payment, but he wasn’t exactly in a position to fix up his new property, and he’d learned that people felt better if they could give him something in return.)

...

His visit with Robbie had been, in a word, disappointing. The Sheikah had made him  _ strip down _ to prove his identity, which had briefly turned Link’s vision red. The shorter man had poked, prodded and thoroughly examined his many scars, which had turned the Hylian’s anger to nausea. In return, Link had been granted three “Ancient Arrows”, and told that if he needed more there would need to be the exchange of provisions.

The materials he understood, but the very unsubtle request for rupees was...upsetting.

It wasn’t as though “Saving the World” came with a weekly stipend, or the Shrine of Resurrection had bestowed upon him riches. 

On top of all that, the Nayru-forsaken Guardian stationed in front of the research facility had set him off, causing a horrifying few moments where he didn’t know where or when he was. By the time he’d managed to calm down, the thing was in pieces and Link was drained.

Meeting Bolson, Hudson and Karson that evening at the stable had been a surprise, but one that he felt he could handle. He was just returning from taking care of the nearby monster infestation (his method of paying for a bed in lieu of rupees) when they’d asked him to accompany them back to Hateno after dropping Hudson off on an outcropping so that they could “expand their business”.

“We’d really rather not run into anything that would cause us problems, ya know?” Bolson had said, “If ya help us out, Karson and I’ll finish up that house of yours, even maintain it while you’re away for no extra cost! Whaddya say Mr. Studly?”

That was how he found himself travelling alongside Bolson Construction, their upbeat attitudes drawing him out of his darker thoughts. Having the smaller goal of keeping them safe grounded Link, and by the time they’d returned to Hateno he felt refreshed and ready to take on his bigger task.

Having a Home to come back to makes a happy future more possible.

* * *

It’s not the outfit he’s uncomfortable with.

...not that he’s entirely comfortable with it either. He feels naked without his armour, and having his shoulders exposed when his arms are covered is just...unnerving. There’s still the lingering frustration chafing under the surface of his mind of needing several attempts to even put the Nayru-forsaken shirt...blouse...thing on! He feels vulnerable like this, both to exposure as a Man and to an actual attack.

Regardless, he doesn’t have an issue with the feminine ensemble. The problem is the staring.

Link can feel the eyes of the Gerudo on him, and it doesn’t matter that they’re kind or that he was expecting it—he doesn’t like it. It’s like hundreds of spiders crawling on his skin, solid ore in his stomach and lizards lodged in his throat. He wants to ask Riju if they can go back to the castle or out of the city or  _ anywhere else _ , but he knows better than to show weakness in front of the young chieftain. He’s only just gained her trust, and he needs her to get to the Divine Beast.

(Something about this facade is comforting, in an unsettling kind of way. It feels wrong to hide his feelings for the sake of others, but it’s also familiar.)

They’re walking through the marketplace, Buliara a truly imposing figure just behind them, and Link understands  _ why _ everyone is staring. Riju had officially announced him as the warrior sent to aid the Gerudo by taming the rampaging Beast. He had to give her credit; despite her youth she was an accomplished speaker. He didn’t understand how she managed to make it as though the Gerudo were helping him, even though he was the one who was going to be doing the dangerous work.

Riju carried the retrieved Thunder Helm under her arm, casually proud. He’d been tasked to retrieve it as a “test of courage, power, and allegiance”, and logically he knew that many of the stares were directed past him at the ancient relic. That he was with their child chieftain, preparing for their journey to Vah Naboris was also a cause for the added attention.

But all he can think about is the hundreds—no... thousands of eyes on him. Looking over his scared body ( the white lines stand out against his growing tan) and his too-flat chest (someone is going to notice he’s a fraud) and his tiny stature (He’s short by Hylian standards, he can’t imagine what the towering Gerudo must think of him).

He concentrates on keeping eyes straight ahead, unfocused enough that he won't accidentally make eye contact but not so blurred that he’ll run into anyone. It’s at least enough to avoid engaging in any awkward conversation—no one offers wisdom or congratulates him. Honestly...he’ll take it. Small victories are better than any defeat, and he’s not one to question a good thing.

“Hmm...it seems that’s the last of our list.”

It takes him a second to focus back on the world around him, and longer to process the words. Riju crosses off the item as Buliara pays the vendor. The elder Gerudo hands him something—he’s not ‘himself’ enough to register what it is—and he puts it in the bag he’s holding without comment. She gives him a look that he can’t decipher: he’s certain that it’s judgement but aware that he’s not thinking clearly enough to interpret with accuracy.

“Perhaps,” suggests Buliara slowly, half-turning towards the younger girl, “you should calm the Beast tomorrow.”

Riju opens her mouth to protest, but the guard interrupts. “Your pardon Lady Riju, my suggestion was not meant as a slight on you or our Hylian Guest. However, by the time you reach Naboris it will be nightfall, and I imagine Dame Link is not accustomed to the desert chill.”

Link meets the young chieftain’s appraising eyes and sees them widen in understanding. She purses her lips, her face transforming from determined warrior to calculating leader in a split second. He blinks and squares his shoulders, doing his best to appear taller and more powerful.

(The Weight of the Eyes multiples, threatening to crush him.)

“While I’m certain that you are more than capable of tackling the elements,” Riju states diplomatically, “it would be wisest to attack when we are at our strongest. Buliara is right—better to rest and fully prepare than to make haste and fail.

“I will leave the choice to you, Dame Link. It is my understanding that you have tamed one such beast before, and I defer to your wisdom. What say you?”

If he takes longer than is strictly necessary to rearrange his bags and free up his hands, no one seems to notice. He clears his throat awkwardly, and cringes at the involuntary action. With an ease he doesn’t feel, Link pretends to mull it over—tapping his finger against his chin and looking up at the sky as though considering.

The only thing in his mind is how much he wants to be anywhere but here. His nervous energy demands a fight—but there’s the dread of having all of Gerudo Town watch them leave.

Link doesn’t consider it cowardice to listen to his anxiety, not this time.

“I think,” he signs formally, concentrating on not letting his hands tremble, “that if no one will be harmed by our delay, it would be best to wait. Perhaps,” he adds, “it would be best to leave at first light?”

Riju laughs, the chieftain giving way to the child. “Not so early, I should think! No use in trading the evening chill for the morning cold, after all! Your wisdom is sound, and I thank you for it—as well as you for your counsel Buliara.”

The two Gerudo exchange smiles, and the trio leave the square. Link stops at the inn and tries to transfer their purchases to Buliara, but the woman simply crosses her arms and looks down at him.

“Oh no, my friend!” Riju exclaims, “I beg your pardon! We would be poor hosts to ask you to ask this task of you and yet treat you like a traveller. It would be my greatest honour to invite you to stay at the Castle, and I simply will not accept another option!

He can’t say no, of course, but Link recognizes the mischievous spark that lights up in her eyes, and the hint of a smirk that tugs on the corners of her lips. It simultaneously tugs at his heart and sets off an alarm inside his brain—he’s seen that look before, and he knows it means trouble.

...

In the safety of the Palace, Riju is more of a child than a Chief. It makes Link smile. and seeing her relax calms his own anxiety.

Her personal chambers are absolutely plastered with Sand-seals—the walls are covered with drawing (some professional, some clearly done by Riju herself), and every few paces there is another stuffed toy. When they'd entered, the young Gerudo had found a large, green seal and shoved it into Link's arms.

"This is Barnaby," she explained, settling down on the bed next to the plush rendition of her precious Patricia.

When he blinks at her, entirely confused, she responds with an incredulous look and a mischievous smile.

"Aren't you going to introduce yourself?"

Link signs his introduction, not trusting his voice but feeling some of the tension leave his body. The mismatched, tealish, button eyes of 'Barnaby' are much less intimidating than the hundreds of Gerudo gazes from before.

He and Riju talk late into the evening, exchanging puns and stories. Whatever anxiety he'd been feeling sinks into the ground with the setting sun. The Gerudo chief had a ravenous curiosity about the world outside the Walls and absorbed each and every tale the Hylian Traveller had for her. In return, she spoke of her own adventures, and Link was just as delighted to listen. 

He’s standing in the doorway, laughing at one last joke before he retires for the night, when Riju suddenly goes rigid. His whole body tightens, senses straining as they search for whatever threat caused her change in demeanor. Without a word, the young girl runs to her desk, rummaging in a drawer and returning with something clenched in her hand.

"My Vaba," she begins, "had a friend who was Hylian. This Hylian, she was an... I’m not sure if your people have a word for it, but we call them Oten'vehvi. It means "heaven's child", but it would be more accurate to say "spirit daughter". Lady Urbosa adopted her into the tribe, and she came here when the Calamity emerged." She pauses, taking stock of his reaction. For his part, Link fights back the well of shame threatening to overflow, and nods at her to continue.

"This vai," continues the chief when it's clear he's comfortable, "made each new chief a small figure when they were born. I never met her personally, but apparently when my mother..." she looked away, eyes glassy, "when my mother was pregnant with me, she made two figures."

Riju smiles sadly, opening her fist to reveal an expertly crafted wooden seagull. His eyes are drawn to it, a sharp pain piecing his heart. Riju takes his hand and deposits the figurine into his open palm and closes his fingers over it.

"Today, at the marketplace, you were nervous. It was not weakness!" her eyes drill into him, compassionately but sternly silencing his protests, "I understand more than most the pressure of expectation, and the anxiety it causes. Oten'vehvi made two figures and instructed my mother—who then instructed Buliara—to give them to me when I came of age. I am to keep one and give the other to someone in need of courage. I want to give it to you."

"Riju..." Link whispers, “I... I couldn't..."

"You cannot reject a gift, especially from the Chief of the Gerudo! Besides," her smirk is strong despite the lingering tightness of her eyes, "I am keeping Sand Seal, which is ten thousand times better than any bird!"

He sleeps with the wooden bird safely in his hands, close to his heart. Child's laughter floats through his dreams. It starts as Riju's familiar twinkling tones, but morphs slowly into a much rougher chuckle.

When he wakes, he finds he's refreshed for the first time in weeks.

The seagull is placed in the pouch next to the Slate. He's conditioned to protect that side anyway, and it feels...important to keep the wooden figure on his person.

(Having it with him brings him a mysterious peace.)

* * *

He's prepared, this time, when Urbosa's voice penetrates the silence.

Her teasing spirit had clearly come with her into the afterlife, and it makes Link smile despite his guilt. She's completely understanding about the Master Sword situation, giving her approval of the quest.

"The Goddesses always did love to make life complicated for their chosens," she says, and he can hear the accompanying eye roll, "at least they’ve given you half decent instructions."

Cleansing Naboris isn't easy, not with the insane number of Guardians patrolling the halls. Link manages to split himself: keeping the part of him that's absolutely freaking out locked somewhere deep inside and clearing away the enemies mostly via muscle memory. Urbosa's teasing helps to keep him grounded, as does the wooden figurine at his waist. It also helps that there’s no startling revelation this time, no world-shattering information or strange emotional surprises. He’s allowed to put his whole focus on finding the terminals and clearing away as much of the Malice as he can.

He’s exhausted when he steps out, physically and emotionally. The barrier between his heart and brain is starting to crumble, and he wants to be alone when it falls. His stomach also growls greedily, and he’s starting to feel the air around him dip into freezing. Link’s more than ready to go and rest by a fire somewhere, take his growing agitation out on wandering monsters and not think about his destiny. His body literally itches with yearning for a moment of rest.

Maybe that’s why she catches him off guard.

“Link, I must ask you something before you go.”

Resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, Link hums for her to continue.

“In this middle place between Life and Death, I can feel Zelda’s spirit. She’s strong, our Princess; her soul is a bright light even in the Spirit Realm,” her voice carries her smile and pride. Link can almost see her, standing tall with her hands on her hips.

The atmosphere shifts as she continues.

“However,” her voice is uncharacteristically hesitant, “there is someone else I would ask you about.”

“Riju?” he interjects, “She was the one who helped me, the current chi—”

“No. The one I speak of is dear to you, and to me. Tell me, what has become of Aryll?”

Link bites his lip, face scrunching up in thought. Aryll...Aryll...the name is familiar, but it isn’t attached to a face in his memory. No one in Gerudo town had recognized him, but perhaps whoever Urbosa spoke of was simply travelling? Or non-Gerudo?

“Who is Aryll?”

Urbosa’s spirit is quiet for so long that he’s certain she’s faded away. When she speaks again, it’s somber, and more strained than it has been for the entire time they’ve conversed inside Naboris.

“...Aryll is an old friend of mine, someone I adopted into the tribe.”

“Oh! The Ote...Onte...the Spirit Daughter?”

“That is correct. Aryll is, or was, one of my Oten’vehvi. Does your familiarity with the term mean you know of her fate?”

“Yeah. Riju mentioned her. Apparently, she made it to Gerudo town after...Ganon... Riju said she hadn’t met her, but given that it’s been so long...”

“I understand,” the smile is back in Urbosa’s voice, although he still hears the strain, “Thank You Link, the information you’ve provided—it has settled my spirit some.”

“Happy to be of service.”

“Well then go and get your sword! I can’t wait to take back Naboris from Ganon, and it’s terribly unchivalrous to keep a Lady waiting.”

Link smiles and waves a mock salute as his body dissolves.

...

He goes right to the castle (after changing, of course) to tell Riju the news. He wants to catch her before she goes to bed, so that he can be on his way immediately.

Despite his exhaustion, he’s too anxious to rest. Urbosa’s parting words about her adopted daughter put him on edge, and Link would rather face Ganon with a wooden spoon than uncover why. Perhaps if he runs far enough fast enough, he will be able to leave the turbulent emotions here in Gerudo town.

Mentally he’s planning his route as he walks into the throne room, and he blames the split-second hallucination on his overworked mind.

Instead of Riju sitting on the throne, there is another girl. A Hylian, shorter than her Gerudo counterpart, sits with her legs crossed at the ankles, and a knowing smirk on her lips. Dark blond hair frames her pale face, twin braids hanging in front of her pointed ears. Grey eyes sparkle with mischief, making the hairs on Link’s arms tickle not with fear but expectation.

The vision lasts less than a second, and when he blinks it is the sea-green eyes of Riju that twinkle back at him. He’s disappointed, briefly, and then relieved. Even the idea of having a Memory—or, Hylia-forbid, a meltdown—here in the castle is horrifying. That he’s somehow managed to postpone it is a miracle, and one he knows to take advantage of.

...

When he does break (almost as soon as he’s sure he’s alone) his first thought is of Zelda, as always. His second is of his own shame, and his third is guilt over Urbosa’s trapped spirit.

The girl doesn’t come up until the second wave of emotions hit. Tears fill his eyes, as his mind latches onto this new target—although he doesn’t realize he’s crying until he hears the droplets splat onto the paper in his lap. It’s almost enough to snap him out of his whirlwind of resentment: he can’t remember the last time he’s cried.

Shaking, he wipes his eyes with one hand and flips to a new journal page with the other. At the top he writes  _ Mystery Girl _ in uneven letters. Giving into his mind’s desire to spiral, Link travels into the murky waters of his memory to find any explanation as to why he keeps seeing her, and why  _ she _ has made him cry when so little else has. He’s shocked by how much he remembers about her, managing to fill two pages with his lopsided notes. But when he goes for a name, and relation to him...he comes up empty.

Until days later when he wakes from an almost-nightmare, heart hammering but mind clear. He knows who it is, and for all that he wants to be upset and grieving, Link is consumed with numbness. He fumbles with his journal, crosses off  _ Mystery Girl  _ and writes her name next to it.

The girl he’d seen on the throne was the same as he saw in his dreams—he’d seen her in his returning memories on the odd occasion as well.

His most recent dream had been one such memory: a much younger version of himself speaking in front of a faceless crowd. In his hand he’d held a small clay bird. It had been given to him as a comfort, something to fiddle with since he wouldn't be able to hold his sword.

It was a gift. From...from Aryll.

His sister.

Link buries his face in his pillow, conscious of the thin walls of the Inn as he screams in pain.

He’d had a sister, and contrary to his nightmares she’d survived the Calamity. She’d  _ lived _ , and because of Urbosa she’d been seamlessly accepted into Gerudo culture. He’d helped her, he knows, to escape. She must have taken his horse—he’d wondered why he’d led Zelda away on foot, known that he wouldn’t have done so unless there was no other option. He’s not sure if he gave her the horse, or if she’d taken it to escape, but he knows that it is what led to her survival.

As he sobs into the pillow beneath him, fingers almost tearing holes through the fabric, he realizes that he feels no relief at her surprise survival.

Riju had said that Aryll had been alive before the Gerudo Chief was born. Riju’s mother and grandmother had known her.

Riju was only twelve.

If Link had awoken earlier, he may have been able to see his little sister again, one last time.

_ “You know that I’ll always be here, Little Sister.” _

The memory is unbidden, and it twists the knife in his heart sharply. He’d failed her, not by allowing the Calamity to end her life abruptly but by not waking in time to be with her at the end. He’d broken his promise to her, and to himself. He wasn’t just Hyrule’s worst hero—he was also it’s worst Big Brother.

And yet...

Link gropes the floor next to his bed, searching for his belt-pouch. When he finds it, he takes out the wooden seagull, turning it over in his hands and studying it intensely. Now that he knows what to look for, it’s easy to recognize Aryll’s craftsmanship—it’s improved since their childhood but there’s still so much of  _ her _ in the details.

__

_ “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried, Big Brother!” _

__

Grief still gnaws at his insides, cold and sharp, but he can’t help the smile tugging at his lips. He’d protected her until the end, and she’d found a second family. And now, even though she was gone, he carried a piece of her with him. In a small way, it was like she was still with him.

It wasn’t nearly enough, and it would never replace what he's lost, but it was still precious.

His family was with him, rooting for him, even from beyond the grave.

(He’s going to make them proud.)

* * *

Coincidentally, he’d slept through most of the previous Blood Moons.

The phenomenon is rare and unpredictable, and Link isn’t exactly watching for it. The locals all shudder for a few days before, claiming the very air around them takes on an evil flavour. The other Hylians whisper about a heaviness in their bones, a darkness over their eyes, veiled threats around every corner.

Link calls that an average day.

It’s certainly annoying that the monsters regenerate, but their intelligence doesn’t seem to benefit, so he can’t say it’s too much of a hassle. It’s worth it for the renewing of crops and supplies: the young Hylian would have run out of materials for elixirs quite quickly otherwise.

He’d slept through the first one or two by accident—it was early in his journey and he was often asleep before the sun had fully set. When he’d learned about the event, it hadn’t meant very much to him and he hadn’t changed his schedule around it. Even at their supposed “super powerful” most bokoblins or moblins weren’t a real threat to him unless he was bone-weary, and the warrior avoided that on principle.

It was after his...conversation with the Master Sword that things started to change. His memories began to return, trickling back through dreams and half-remembered facts. By the time he’d cleansed Ruta, he’d noticed that many of his memories were...unpleasant, and their return almost unwanted. Each of the pictures left to guide him was like a dam opening briefly: a torrent of feelings and faces would flood him before stopping abruptly. His mind, then, would patch the remnants together with whatever information he had available—inevitably leading to nightmares full of half-formed truths and partially remembered events. Even pleasant memories weren’t exempt: Link would often wake with his heart in his throat and his vision swimming from a dream as mundane as his daily routine at the castle. It was hard to decipher which memories were true, and tiring to figure out what to believe.

He didn’t understand it, didn’t like it, and strove to avoid it.

By the time he’d cleansed Naboris, Link was a master of functioning without sleep. Through trial and error (lots and  _ lots _ of error) he’d figured out how to sleep for tiny bits of time, enough for a momentary refreshment but not nearly enough to dream. He still failed occasionally, giving into his body’s need to fully rest, but overall, he was proficient at what the Gerudo had called “Soldier's Naps”.

Which is how he finds himself settled safely at the top of Ridgeland Tower, watching the Red sphere take its place in the sky.

He supposes he should be horrified—the moon really does look like it’s bleeding, red light tinting the wispy clouds around it. But instead, he finds himself at peace.

None of his memories of the Calamity contain a Blood Moon, which means that this likely isn’t a sign towards the end of the world. It’s a side effect of whatever seal Princess Zelda has on Ganon, and its return means that the bonds are holding.

Seeing the Blood Moon means he still has time, and the menacing event brings him comfort.

When the orb is at its height, a familiar voice speaks to him.

“ _ Link…Link…” _

It’s the first time he’s heard her voice and known her outside of memory, and it takes his breath away. His hand finds his way to his Wedding Band, and he pushes his awareness towards her.

“ _ Be on your guard....” _

__

He can feel her fading, senses that there’s more she wants to say but can’t. He holds onto her presence selfishly, flinging himself internally towards her. Zelda responds with a warm pulse, a gentle hum of emotions. Link clings to it, sending his own longing and confusion her way. His determination swallows the more negative emotions, and he can feel her smile at him. Slowly, the foreign light dims in his mind as Zelda returns all of her strength to holding the Calamity at bay.

“I’ll be careful,” Link whispers into the night, “and I’m coming. Just two beasts left, and then...”

The Hylian removes his necklace, holding the pendant protectively in the palm of his hand. He’d discovered the trick by accident not long ago, a secret function the unassuming teardrop contained. Gingerly, he runs a finger from the tip of the green leather to the base. Even in the twisted red light, the painted flower within sparkles gorgeously. Link smiles down at the petals, focusing on the feelings Zelda had sent him.

“And then I’m coming for you.”

* * *

He's beyond confused.

Leagues beyond "confused". He doesn't even think that there's a word for how far past simply "confused" he's feeling.

Link's grateful for the pictures, he really is, but...was it too much to ask for them to have been taken in order? He's aware that, logically, she wouldn't have been taking pictures while running from Yiga assassins or yelling at him or during a candid conversation. Additionally, he's not really discovering them in the order they were taken in.

It's no wonder his timeline is scrambled.

One memory they're friendly, and the next she's yelling at him! The scenes come in flashes of pictures—enough for him to get the sense of where he was but not clear enough for him to really know  _ when _ . Then there's every memory that isn't attached to a picture, leaving no guide to where they fit in.

It's incredibly frustrating, which is why he's sitting amongst the flowers and crumbling columns.

That he's mimicking his Princess is purely coincidence—Link had certainly come to the columns to get the memory but had begun to journal before it hit him. He can't be sure, but he'd like to believe that Zelda was sitting at this exact column, taking notes to clear her head just as he's doing now.

Most likely, he's even sharing her simmering anger and frustration.

Exhaling the lingering tension, Link flips to the back of his journal. If he writes anymore about Revali's smugness (even in death the Rito found ways to mock him) or the twisted timeline of his memories, his journal may combust from the heat of his words. Instead, he finds a blank paper and begins to draw.

First, an oval. A large triangle at the base. Two eyes. A nose.

Hopefully, with the memory still fresh in his mind, this drawing will turn out proper.

Link wouldn't call himself an artist by any means, but he's found that drawing the faces of his loved ones is therapeutic. His father's face had been his first attempt, and the scribbled remains of that failed portrait don't sting as much as the others. His picture had been a disaster, but he'd gained the memory of people telling him that he took after his mother in looks and his father in attitude.

A bittersweet victory, but a victory nonetheless.

(He hadn't even tried to draw his mother. Memories of her are so few and far between, Link doesn't feel confident enough to even try)

Drawing his sister had been marginally more successful. Aryll, he's sure, was expressive and open—constantly full of life. He won't be showing off the sketch, but he believes he's captured her bright grey eyes and cheeky smile. Eventually, he'd stopped drawing and begun listing facts he remembered. Her hair colour  _ (a dirty-blonde, just lighter than his own in two braids in front of her ears and the rest down to her shoulders), _ her favourite colour ( _ white, like the seagulls and cuccos she was so fond of), _ and other such things.

He had a similar list for Zelda, only he never stopped trying to draw her. Every recovered slate-memory or the times he'd turn automatically to try and talk to her prompted another attempt. These pictures are his best, but something is still not right about them.

Beyond his lackluster abilities, the portrait that states back at him it's missing something important. A quality he can't describe in words and can't capture in art.

This picture is the same, and Link picks a flower to press between the pages. She loved wildflowers, and 'giving' it to the portrait made him smile.

When this is over, he'll give her the dried specimens and ask her to tell him about them. Then he'll take a photo of her and laugh about how poor a comparison his sketches are.

(It's probably his imagination, but the pendant around his neck seems to hum warmly in response)

* * *

He thinks that she’d probably be proud of him.

Or at least, amused and slightly exasperated. From what he remembers, that’s how his Princess shows her pride anyway. She’d probably be speechless for a half-second, and then her words would come out loudly and all-at-once. Then he’d smile at her, and she’d roll her eyes at him before smiling back, and they’d go eat his freshly caught dinner.

And, really, it’s her fault he’d tried this anyway.

After all, it was her (albeit remembered and out of context) advice that inspired him!

Honestly, Link’s lucky that the day is warm, because otherwise he’d have probably caught his death. Which would have been the only thing he caught at all, considering the fish he was trying to capture evaded him consistently.

Normally catching his food isn’t as big an issue, but he wants to save his arrows for the Divine Beast. Somehow, he doubts that Death Mountain is home to an ample arrow store, and he isn’t about to go up and down just to purchase more should he run out. That takes birds off the table, literally and metaphorically. He knows from his previous visit that the Lost Forest is full of Game, but also almost impossible to hunt in because of the mystic fog.

(He also doesn’t want to be so close to His Sword while knowing he can’t claim it)

So, he walks until he finds a river, and dives in. The school of trout scatters, but Link’s a patient man. He floats onto his back, making sure to keep as still as he can, and soon enough the fish deem that he wasn’t a threat.

Typically, he lets them get comfortable, then snatches them up, holding tightly to their tails, and hauling them to shore.

Typically, he doesn’t let them go, or miss them entirely. He’s never had to go and find  _ another _ group of fish to try the tactic on, only to fail several more times.

(He contemplates using his arrows but throws the idea out quickly. He’s going to catch one of these Nayru-forsaken fish by hand or die trying!)

Eventually, he slogged his way to the bank of the river, resting against a tree. His stomach growls to alert him to its emptiness, and the young warrior bites back the responding growl of frustration. Pushing his soggy hair out of his eyes, he gently pounds his head against the rough bark behind him. The steady motion is settling, although he’s careful not to be forceful.

The memory comes to him dimly, like a smudged drawing. It’s startling at first, but the fuzzy edges of this memory don’t feel particularly jagged, so he focuses on it. Soon enough it’s clear, pulling on the corners of his lips.

_ “You know,” Zelda had told him, fists on her hips as she struggled not to laugh, “the definition of insanity is ‘doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results’” _

He remembers sticking his tongue out at her and diving back into the (freezing) river. They’d argued when he emerged victorious—him insisting that he’d proved her wrong and her maintaining that he hadn’t: it was simply that he  _ was _ insane and so the insane worked for him. She’d then taken a picture of him looking half drowned and holding the salmon above his head in victory.

His hands go to the slate at his hip, desperately hoping that the picture will materialize just because he’s regained the attached memory. It’s a fool’s errand, one he’s been disappointed by before but is willing to hope for again. Link doesn’t make it to the album—an idea springs to life before he can.

Grinning maniacally, he selects what he needs from the ancient device. It lands in his hands, lightweight despite its size. He strolls confidently down the river, finding what he thinks is the first school of fish and lobs the glowing blue orb into the middle of their group. The fish are curious, which delights him. They probe the sphere, gathering around it, and that delights him even more.

What delights him most is when the bomb detonates.

The shockwave kills the entire school, and Link has no trouble gathering their corpses to shore. Cooking them is an absolute pleasure, and the meal tastes sweeter with the flavouring of his revenge.

(He signs a “Thank You” towards the sky as he leaves, asking the Goddesses to deliver it to Zelda. Beneath his tunic, he can feel a light warmth from the pendant around his neck)

* * *

He’s had enough of these now that he knows he’s not dying.

Well... he knows intellectually that he’s not dying. It’s hard to remember, considering his brain is on fire and his body seems to be trying to eject itself out of the corporeal realm. He certainly  _ feels _ like he’s dying, but experience suggests otherwise.

(Or maybe it doesn’t, if his suspicions about the root of these attacks is correct)

What’s worse is that he’d been so careful. After the first few episodes, he’d sat himself down and started a list. On one side of the page, all of the recurring fake sensations and phantom injuries his body re-lived. In the middle, things he knew as fact would take him out of reality. The third column was for his suspicions: things he was able to extrapolate and assume would trigger his mind to attack itself.

Link’s not stupid, he knows that the recurring elements of his nightmares, and the correlating sensations in his body are telling him something. They’re memories just the same as those left for him to remember, and he’s determined to learn from them. It takes trial and error—sometimes the attacks are seemingly random, and other times they’re clearly connected to an external subject.

So, he’s careful. He tries not to get too tired or hungry. He makes himself scarce when the conversation turns to Guardians or The Calamity. He avoids the Guardians as much as he can and tries to scout ahead before engaging them. When he sleeps, he stays on his side or stomach and makes sure he’s got a clear escape route no matter where he is.

He takes extra care not to burn himself cooking.

Obviously, climbing  _ Death Mountain _ , the  _ active volcano _ was going to carry the risk of burns. But he’d stocked up on fire-proof elixir, donned his sapphire circlet to prevent any non-fire related scalding, and tread carefully. He’d splurged and bought the Flamebreaker boots to match his tunic, because he couldn’t stop to drink an elixir while cleansing Rudania and he wasn’t going to risk losing himself inside the Beast.

And he’d made it! He’d cleansed Rudania, promised Daruk he’d return, and made it to Goron City. He’d slept, he’d eaten, and he’d avoided stepping in any lava. He’d been so careful, and yet he’d forgotten that metal absorbs heat. All it took was him grabbing his shield by the wrong piece and...

Link curses from his hiding place, huddled between two boulders curled up as tight as he can. It was bad luck that made him drop the shield, and he’d caught it without thinking... but he should be better than this! He chokes on a sob, setting off a coughing fit that makes his chest ache. A wave of phantom pain erupts in his ribs, and he fights to stay in the present. If he were anywhere else Link would take out his pendant and practice opening and closing the flower, grounding himself in the mechanical motions. As it is, he’s not sure if the necklace is fireproof—and he’s absolutely unwilling to take the risk. Instead, he pries the sapphire out of his circlet, tossing the golden band to the ground and clenching the small gemstone in his hand. The cool, clean edges of the jewel press sharply into his palm, but he doesn’t loosen his grip.

This will pass, he knows, he just has to get through it. Eventually, his body will realize that there’s no threat and stop preparing for it. His mind will realize that he’s still very much alive. He’ll be utterly spent, and the pain will linger in a fuzzy way at the back of his awareness, but he’ll be able to fake calm and confidence.

It’ll be soon. Maybe. Hopefully. Then he can be more careful and avoid another careless mistake. This will be the last time, he’s sure. He’ll be more vigilant, more cautious. Stronger.

This won’t happen again. He won’t have to go through it anymore.

(It’s the kind of lie that keeps him sane.)

* * *

He heads to Hateno as a last resort.

He’s visited all twelve locations and nearly filled his journal with the recovered memories, but Link knows something is missing. He’s done the work to create a rough timeline of everything, put all his memories in a loose order. No matter how many different versions he creates, there’s always one thing missing.

The Ending.

If it weren’t for Hylia’s “conditions” he wouldn’t even consider seeking that repressed memory. He still waffles over the decision, only the muted notes of the Master Sword pushing him convince him of its necessity. Hylia had tasked him to learn who he was, and that meant  _ everything _ .

The problem is there’s no clues. It makes sense that Zelda hadn’t taken a photo: she’d likely been preoccupied with saving his life and sealing Ganon. But he can’t exactly go around to the different stables and say “Hi, about 100 years ago, during the Calamity? I died, and now I need to figure out where and how because my sword told me that Hylia demands it. Any ideas?”

He can’t even imagine what the reaction would be.

Logically, he crosses off most of the Kingdom. The events leading up to...the end are easy to put in order—he knows they’d been running  _ away _ from the castle and heading west. That takes Eastern Hyrule out of the contenders, as well as the Castle itself.

(He’d definitely sent a relieved prayer to all three Goddesses when he realized that. It had been almost impossible to get the memory in the Castle, and he certainly didn’t plan to go snooping around again.)

Between the knowledge of local historians and his own travels, he thinks there are two places they could have been heading: Akkala Citadel or Kakariko Village. The former was the most fortified structure in the kingdom, and the latter would be plausible due to the loyalty of the Sheikah and their vow to serve and protect the Royal Family. They are, of course, on almost opposite sides of the country, which isn’t particularly helpful. Not to mention, there’s no guarantee that they actually  _ made it _ to their destination before he died, and no way to know what would trigger the memory. Searching both pathways would take months, and the last thing Link wants to do is waste time.

If he wants to be as efficient as possible, he needs to see one of the three people who could help narrow his search: Robbie, Impa and Purah.

Robbie is immediately taken off his list—even if his first impression of the eccentric researcher had been more pleasant (and involved less poking) he doesn’t want to deal with the Guardian outside the door. Impa is the most logical solution since she seems the most knowledgeable, but...it feels like a failure to present himself before her without his sword or his completed memory.

So, he turns his journey to Hateno, praying all the while that Nayru would grant him the patience to deal with the energetic not-child.

“LINKY!” Purah jumps off her stool once he’s set foot in the lab, and he has his arms full of Sheikah Scientist before the door is fully closed. “You’re back! It’s been a looooong time, so you must have gotten to all the Divine Beasts, right? Did 100 years in the elements have any effect on their preservation? Do they function without pilots? How had Ganon’s control impacted them?”

Link takes a deep breath and shifts the not-six-year-old to his free hip. He walks her back to her table and deposits her onto the stool as he answers her questions. She hastily grabs her notepad, scribbling down his answers so messily he’s not sure that she’ll be able to read it later.

“Actually Purah,” he rushes, seeing her get ready to throw another volley of inquiries at him, “I think maybe one of the pictures that Zelda left for me didn’t get recovered with the others. Is that...something you can find out and fix?”

Purah frowns at him, scrunching her face to the side. “Really? Huh... Symin! Grab me the Slate-book! ...please. Oh, wait no, I have it here. Nevermind!” She climbs onto the table, crawling over the piles of books on it, and flips through a worn looking book.

“Put the slate on the Guidance Stone Linky,” she calls over her shoulder, “and we’ll have that lost picture back in a SNAP!”

The stone accepts the Slate easily, but the stalactite portion of the ancient device remains dormant. His slate is ejected after a few seconds of nothingness, and Link turns to Purah in confusion.

“Huh,” states the researcher, face scrunching even tighter, “That’s...unusual. The blue flame must be working, or it wouldn't have accepted it. Givvit here for a Snap?”

He puts the slate in her open palms, shifting anxiously on his feet. Purah swings her legs under the table as she swipes through the functions to get to the album. He sees her tap each picture and hears her count in the Sheikah Language each photo in turn.

“Aaaaaand there’s me, which means that’s the end of Zelda’s pictures. It seems they’re all here...which one did you think was missing again?”

“Oh...um...well...”

“C’mon Linky! I can’t help ya till I know what I’m lookin’ for! This is a scientific mystery! Don’t hold out on me!!”

“Well, I’m not sure entirely if it’s actually missing,” Link studies the floor, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “but, uh, did Princess Zelda leave a photo of my death? Maybe?”

Purah’s legs stop swinging abruptly, and Link watches her from the corner of his eye. She looks to Symin, dutifully pretending not to listen by sorting his books, and back to him. Then she looks at the slate, back to him, and the slate again.

(It’s the stillest he’s ever seen her, and it would be funny if not for the subject matter.)

“Oh...well...” Purah dismounts from the table, landing without a sound and crossing the short distance to him, “the Princess...she didn’t really have time to...take one. It was...”

“It’s alright,” he interrupts, taking the slate back from her, “I figured she might not have, but I’m not sure how else to find out...what happened?”

Purah bites her lip and looks back at Symin. She’s rocking back and forth, face twitching as she thinks.

“Well...I couldn’t tell you exactly,” she states without looking at him, “but...Impa will know.”

Dread drops in his stomach like a rock. He really didn’t want to face the Sheikah Matriarch until he was absolutely ready to save Zelda. Crawling back for help—even with the suspicion that she would be willing to give it—stung his pride.

“I’ll write ahead,” Purah says, quill already in hand, “so that she knows what to expect.”

Link steadies himself, forcing himself to be strong. “Don’t bother. I’ll be there by the end of the day.”

He’s out the door before she has a chance to respond.

* * *

Watching himself die is, in a word, nightmarish.

He falls to his knees in front of the same Guardian they’d hid behind that fateful night. Thousands of emotions swirl and collide within him, each battling for dominance. It’s surreal, to be sitting in the same spot he’d died nearly 100 years ago, alive and well.

He’s simultaneously horrified, proud and... something else. Some other feeling rises to the surface, but he can’t identify it. In a daze, he walks back to his horse, and rides past the gate to his home. The cloud of shock still covers his mind when he arrives, and it’s not until after he’s eaten that things start to clear.

A lot of things make sense, for starters. His fear of Guardians, his episodes... it’s easier to believe that it’s not simply weakness on his part. He feels no less like a failure, but there’s a small comfort in knowing that he’d fought so hard for so long.

His last thoughts...Zelda’s last words to him... He’d used her name-sign, he’d wanted to tell her that he loved her. She’d saved him—she could have left him to rot and gone to face Ganon but instead...

(In his mind floats a dim melody. They loved each other; it’s woven into the fabric of his soul.)

...

When he wakes the next morning, two thoughts compete for attention in his mind. Everything else is muted, so it’s not hard to devote his mental energy away from the previous day's revelation and onto these new challenges. He’s still choosing when the Sheikah Slate dings incessantly at him, and the new circumstances make his mind up for him.

On the map are five new triangles, glowing the same soft blue as the towers and the Shrines on the Plateau. Each new addition correlates to a city with a Divine Beast, except for one: that of the Great Forest. It’s not a leap in logic to conclude that they’re warp points, and he can guess why they’ve been unlocked.

As he rides to Kakariko, he lifts prayers of thanks to each of the Goddesses for their blessing and understanding.

...

“You said,” he blurts out, “it was almost 100 years ago to when the Calamity awoke.”

“That is correct.” Impa states calmly, sipping her tea.

“Not just you,” Link presses, “everyone always says it.  _ Almost. Nearly _ . That means not quite there.”

“I wasn’t under the impression that the Shrine deprived you of your vocabulary as well as your memories.”

“No, I mean...” he taps his own teacup impatiently, “How close is it?”

Impa takes another sip, long and slow. It’s hard to stay calm, but Link forces himself not to snap at the elderly woman.

“Ninety-nine years, eight months and nine days exactly. Which reminds me, your birthday was earlier this month, so Happy Belated. Now drink your tea before it gets cold.”

His tea is scalding hot, but he barely notices as he obliges. That left him just over one month to do everything he needed before the anniversary.

(He tucks the new information about himself away for later, not wanting to lose focus and not ready to process it anyway)

It would be cutting it close, but with the new ability to quick travel...

“I can see the wheels turning in your head,” Impa interrupts his thoughts, “and I advise you to make haste. There’s no guarantee that Zelda will be able to maintain her hold on Ganon until the centennial anniversary. That said...” A sly smile graces the elder’s face, “perhaps after all she’s done, our Princess could use a nice surprise.”

He flashes her a smile as he leaves, plans already forming in his mind's eye.

* * *

He recognizes the song as soon as his body materializes.

The warp-point is outside the forest (because nothing in his life could ever be easy) but finding his way through the fog isn't as challenging the second (third) time. The familiar melody guides him directly to the Deku Tree, and to The Sword.

Link is laser focused on the sword, some force constricting his spirit and tugging him towards it. He absently raises a hand to greet the Ancient Tree, and hears the Korok’s giggling and scurrying around him, but doesn’t shift his awareness.

Part of him is fearful that he’ll be rejected again, that he hasn’t done enough.

He imagines beating that part of him with a large stick, and firmly grasps the hilt.

Instead of being thrown back, Link feels himself sucked into the very essence of the sword. It’s disorienting, but instinctively he knows that there’s nothing to fear.

A calm blue surrounds him, gentle water lapping at his feet. Directly in front of him is a woman, dressed entirely in white, golden hair loosely fluttering despite the still air. At first glance, he thinks it’s Zelda, so when the woman turns to face him, he stumbles back.

She’s tall, too large to be human even standing at a distance. Strength pours out of her almost tangibly—he can just about see the power radiating outwards. In place of Zelda’s vibrant green, the entirety of the woman’s eyes glow a vibrant yellow. Her skin, too, is luminescent, and her feet seem not to touch the water as she walks towards him. In her arms lies the Master Sword, although it floats slightly above her arms instead of resting in them.

Link falls to his knees in reverence as the Goddess Hylia walks towards him.

“Hello again, my Hero.”

He lifts his head at the silky words, smiling shyly up at her.

“I’m glad to see that you’ve proven yourself once again. I admit, I wasn’t entirely sure you were up to the task.”

Where he Nayru’s chosen, he’d have listened to his instincts and nodded mutely. Where he the same Link as he was before, he would have clenched his jaw tightly and borne the shame.

Link is neither.

“I’m sorry to continue to disappoint you then,” he snaps, rising to his feet.

“On the contrary,” Hylia responds evenly, “you have never been a failure to me. Not in this life nor any others.”

“Then why?!” Link throws his arms to the side, resisting the urge to stomp his feet, “Why did you make me prove myself?! Why did you punish me?!”

The Goddess shakes her head, lips curving into a smile. “Because you needed to be whole.”

Tears fill his eyes, and he wipes them away harshly. “I...” his voice dries up, choked with emotion. “I don’t understand,” his hands continue.

“When you first came, you were a shell. You had a mission, as well as my sisters’ blessing, but you were not yourself. I do not require a hollow warrior or living weapon—my blessing comes from your uniqueness as a person.

“Your mission was to know yourself, not for my benefit, but yours. But I know, more than my sisters, how difficult it is to regain yourself. I know the trails and the pain that comes from recovering missing pieces. I doubted because I hoped to spare you that suffering, but rest assured, I am overjoyed that you have bested the challenge.”

All of the anger leaves him in a rush. Hylia glides towards him, kneeling down so that they’re eye to eye. She wipes his tears, and Link feels like a child. Then she smiles at him, leaning away, and holds the sword out between them.

He takes it confidently, the familiar weight a welcome sensation in his hand. In the back of his mind, it’s presence flares to life, exploding with song and threatening to bowl Link over with its exuberance. His own joy rises to match it as Hylia and the spirit-world around him fade away.

The Koroks cheer when he raises the Sword above his head, and for the first time since his awakening Link feels complete.

* * *

He discovers that, except for the decreased travel time, he doesn't like warping.

There hadn't really been a need for it on the Plateau, and warping out of the Divine Beasts had never bothered him—but that had been only a short distance. Traveling across Hyrule was nauseating, and he definitely fell over immediately after fully materializing.

That was bad enough at the mostly deserted Forest, but here...

Well... At least he'd changed before departing.

Initially, he’d planned to go to the Domain first. The guilt of leaving Mipha’s spirit trapped any longer than strictly necessary was almost all-consuming. However, the Sword had nudged him to choose Gerudo Town, although it hadn’t provided an explanation. He’d wavered—shame competing with curiosity—but in the end decided that Mipha would understand. He remembers that she’d been very in-tune with her own blessing and knows that she would encourage him to follow his instincts.

After the initial wave of nausea passes, he walks past the gates and strides confidently towards the Castle. He can feel the eyes of the Gerudo on him again, feel the phantom-bugs legs crawl up and down his arms, but keeps his head up and his pace even.

Riju’s shocked face when he arrives is a welcome replacement.

“Well! You certainly possess fantastic timing.”

Link tilts his head at her, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. Instead of replying, Riju leads him outside, to a small classroom.

“It’s best we are not disturbed,” she explains.

He wasn’t anxious before, but the serious way she holds herself and the need for privacy sets him on edge. Had there been another attack? Was it the Yiga? Could Urbosa’s hold on Vah Naboris be loosening?

Link raises his hands to ask, but Riju shoves a parchment wrapped bundle into his hands. He blinks at it, then up at her.

“We were sorting through some of my Vaba’s belongings when we found this. Technically it belongs to me, but I thought that you should have it.”

“Why?”

“It belonged to our Oten’vehvi. After some...research, it became apparent that she was...well...” Riju takes a breath, and tugs Link to the nearest seat. She hops up onto the attached desk, relaxed grace contrasting her grave tone, “As her next of kin, I thought it best that possession transferred to you. It’s a Gerudo custom, although I’m not sure if—”

“Same,” is all he manages, his hand shaking. The young girl beside him falls silent as he gingerly unwraps the bundle in his lap.

Underneath the parchment is a worn leather book, a set of carving tools and an undersized gemstone. He picks up each tool for inspection, a flash flood of emotions hitting him as he tries to place their use. He inspects the gemstone next, discovering intricate patterns carved into its face.

“I had a trusted jeweler examine it,” Riju whispers, “it seems to be made of star fragment, carved down and decorated.”

He already knew. The memories surfaced as soon as he held the tiny gem. He’d actually found it before he’d pulled the Sword, not long after Aryll had been born. Father had been furious when he discovered him missing in the middle of the night, but the small fragment of shooting star was worth his punishment. He’d given it to his sister for her tenth birthday, along with special materials from Mipha for her to shape it with.

“ _...I already shaped the gemstone. _ ”

On an impulse, he flips to the back of the journal. Tucked between the last page and the cover was a loose leaf of paper. He unfolded it, conscientious of Riju leaning closer, and was unsurprised by what he saw. Slightly smudged lines form a circle in the middle of the page, arrows connecting various sketches to notes. It was clear that Aryll had gone over the design several times to maintain its existence, but he knew that nothing had been added or removed.

How she’d had time to grab the stone and his design while she was fleeing the castle he’d never know, but he’s thankful that she did.

With this, he can actually make his wedding band.

* * *

He feels bad, but he doesn’t regret his choice.

Out of all the champions, Urbosa would certainly understand his choice. In life she’d put Zelda above almost all else; she would be willing to wait longer so that he could prepare his princess’s surprise.

(But he still feels bad. He doesn’t want her spirit to suffer any longer than she has to.)

Armed with a clear blueprint of his own making, as well as Aryll’s written suggestions on the methods, Link estimates that he can create his wedding band in very little time. It’s a weight off his mind, having a solid plan and knowing that he doesn’t need to start from scratch.

It’s probably foolishness to delay his fight with Ganon, but he’s desperate to show Zelda he still cares, to thank her for saving his life and for waiting. This is the simplest, most powerful way he can express his myriad of emotions.

Not that he isn’t planning on being strategic! He leaves Gerudo behind without cleansing Naboris because he knows that he’ll need to come back, and if he has to wait at the jewellers without anything to do...

Link’s first stop is Rito Village, where he manages to barter for several cords of soft leather. It helps that Kass is at the market and regales the store-bird with a grand tale of how Link had helped him. When the travelling minstrel learns of Link’s secondary quest, he’s ecstatic and demands to help.

“We Rito,” he trills, “have a similar tradition! We craft a song for our intended, and exchange melodies.” Blue feathers take the brown cords, as Kass smiles down at him. “My daughters have told me of how you helped them. And you’ve certainly helped me in my quest to understand my teacher’s works. Let me and my family help you in this.”

_ “Well I’ll be plucked” Revali chuckles, his spirit floating down to Medoh’s surface. Link stands straighter, ignoring the injuries he sustained during the fight. Windblight Ganon had been a challenge, but he didn’t want to admit his struggle to the Rito warrior. “You defeated him eh? Who would’ve thought? But don’t preen yourself just for doing your job.” _

__

_ Link rolls his eyes, hearing the respect underneath the barb. “You’re welcome, Revali.” _

__

_ “Hmm...I do suppose you’ve proven your value as a warrior. Medoh and I will be ready, and our power will aid you in your fight with Ganon. Feel free to thank me now.” _

__

_ Golden light pools at Link’s feet, floating up and surrounding him before he can form a satisfactory reply. _

__

_ “Or...” Revali turned away from the young Hylian, smiling sadly over his shoulder, “never mind. Just go. Your job is far from finished, you know!” _

__

_ Link’s not sure if the Rito can see, but he makes an effort to grin as he dissolves. In this moment, he senses a kinship with the warrior—one he wishes were present while the other was alive. He’s not sure if he’s meant to hear the last words Revali speaks, but the wind carries them to him anyway. _

__

_ “The Princess has been waiting an awfully long time.” _

__

Kass greets him at the Elder’s hut, five colourful tufts of feathers darting around his legs. The girls tackle him when they spot him, and it’s a welcome reprieve from the weariness of his trial.

“We sang a beautiful song for you, Uncle Link,” Kheel exclaims, “your mate is going to love it!”

“Papa says that it’s woven into the fabric now,” Notts discloses reverently, “so she’ll hear it even if you can’t actually sing it to her.”

Link beams at the family, taking the cords back from Kass and signing his thanks. The girls insist he stay for dinner, Genli enthusiastically proclaiming that they would have Salmon Meuniere if he did. Only a heartless monster would be able to resist five pastel fledgling faces, and since Link has just disposed of the resident monster, he finds himself unable to say no.

(Kass mentions that Teba and his family will be joining them, which is what really solidifies his choice. He’d missed out on friendship with Revali, but he won't make the same mistake twice.)

The evening spent among friends manages to chase the shadows from his mind.

...

Finding the Luminous Stone wasn’t difficult at all. Death Mountain was covered in ore deposits, and the rocks came apart easily with a well-placed bomb.

Unfortunately, they also tended to fly into lava during the extraction.

Yunobo finds him pouting at the Northern Mine, kicking pebbles into the lava in frustration. The young Goron is sympathetic to his plight, albeit fairly confused.

“I just don't get it goro, why would you be looking for that gross stuff anyway?”

When Link explains, Yunobo is quiet for several seconds. Without warning, he leaps to his feet and “pats” the Hylian on the back—reminding Link of Daruk and causing the Hylian to stumble forwards.

“I still don’t get it, but I’ll help you out. Among the Gorons there’s nothing more important than helping out a brother! This time tomorrow you’ll be covered in those yucky glow-rocks up to your eyeballs!”

“I... really only need one...”

“Oh...well I can do that too!”

_ “Great work, Little Guy!” Daruk surges forward, arms outstretched in victory. If he were corporeal, Link would absolutely be crushed in a mountain-sized hug. “I feel like I should apologize...I was doing all I could to protect Hyrule when that thing got the best of me. Sorry that me resting with the rubble caused such a mess.” _

__

_ “Daruk...” Link shifts awkwardly, unsure how to refute the apology. _

__

_ “The good news is,” interrupts the Goron Champion, optimism literally pulsing from his spirit, “Rudania is back under our control! That means our century-old Ganon beat-down plan can finally go into effect!” _

__

_ Daruk’s confidence fills Link, dismissing the uneasiness from the atmosphere. “We’ll light that thing up!” _

__

_ “You bet we will!” Daruk laughs heartily, “Rudania and I stand behind you! You’ll have our protection when you make your way into Hyrule Castle; Ganon won’t know what hit him!” _

__

As promised, Yunobo hands him the biggest chunk of Luminous Stone he’s ever seen. If he hadn’t had the slate, the Hylian isn’t sure he’d be able to travel with it.

“Hey,” Yunobo starts timidly, “you just come back from Rudania? You ah...you’ve got some...”

Link cringes, forcing his hands not to brush against the spot where Fireblight Ganon had pierced his armour. He was only barely keeping himself from a breakdown, and to touch a fresh burn...

For all his awkwardness, Yunobo clearly reads something in his reaction. “I, uh...you ever go to the hot springs?”

The young warriors spend a few hours together, soaking away their issues in the healing spring. When they part ways, both take with them their bolstered confidence.

...

He’s not sure how he’d manage without Sidon.

The Prince had been elated, enthusiasm for the project basically pouring out of him for minutes on end.

“Sidon...” Link interrupts fondly, “I haven’t even told you what I—”

“Oh yes, yes of course! Tell me your fantastic idea, and I’ll offer my assistance any way possible!”

“You...you work with Luminous stone, right? I mean, not you personally but....”

Sidon flashes him a sparkling grin, “Ah! Yes, we Zora are masters of that particular art! What do you need, specifically, and I will direct you.”

Ludo had been more than happy to take his request, almost as excited as Sidon was for the challenge. It was a welcome relief—Link hadn’t been certain that mentioning his intentions wouldn’t antagonize him to the Zora once more.

(He was careful to avoid Muzu.)

Before he can leave for Ruta, Sidon pulls him aside.

“This is a truly wonderful tradition, Link,” he states with his usual charm, “quite similar, it seems, to that of our own Silver Scale. I was wondering if, perhaps, you would allow me to recite the Zora blessing over the stone? Consider it a blessing from my dear sister—I know she would be overjoyed that you are following your heart!”

Link’s eyes threaten to spill over with emotion. Impulsively, he rushes the Zora Prince and wraps him in a hug.

“That would be wonderful.”

_ “Hello, Link.” _

__

_ He’d been expecting it, but it still sends daggers through his heart. Turning around and seeing her, translucent and fading into wisps of blue flame, is like saltwater to the wound. _

__

_ Mipha smiles at him, closing the distance between them. “Because of your courage, my Spirit is now free—and Ruta as well.” She lifts a hand to his face, not quite touching him. “Thank you. For I am now allowed by this freedom, to be with you once again.” _

__

_ Link doesn’t even try to stop the tears from flowing. He does attempt a smile, but he can feel how strained it is. There’s so much he wants to say, but his mouth and hands seem incapable of communication. _

__

_ “All this time...” Mipha continues, “my hope was to see you once more.” _

__

_ “Me too,” he manages to choke out, “I... I’ve missed you.” _

__

_ “And I you. You were my dearest friend, and I am thankful for every moment spent in your company. Know that I will be with you now, for eternity.” _

__

_ The Zora Princess shifts her hand to his chest, almost resting it on the armour she crafted for him. Link feels his wounds begin to repair themselves, the familiar sensation of her magic washing over him. _

__

_ The golden glow of light begins to wrap around him, and he fleetingly pleads with the Goddesses to allow him more time with his friend. _

__

_ “It seems we must go,” Mipha admits, “Ruta and I have our roles to fulfil. And you,” her smile turns teasing, “have a woman waiting for you.” _

__

_ He returns her grin easily, “It won’t do to keep a princess waiting, will it.” _

__

_ “Certainly not!” Mipha laughs, “And Link? _

__

_ We’ll annihilate Ganon together!” _

__

Instead of a grand feast, King Dorephan and Sidon invite Link to a private dinner. They toast to Mipha’s freedom, to her life and to the end of the Calamity. They reminisce together, King Dorephan entertaining them with stories of their childhoods and exchanging treasured memories old and new.

It’s painful, but in the end, Link feels settled. Having the blessing of his friend keeps his spirits high.

...

Riju wastes no time in taking him to a reputable jeweler. The woman examines his plans and declares them possible—although there are parts that he won’t be able to do himself. It’s not really a problem for Link until she asks if it’s alright, at which point he simultaneously remembers that he’s supposed to be the one crafting it and realizes that he had done very little of the actual  _ crafting _ .

He’s saved from a breakdown when the woman offers to teach him how to do the simplest steps: braiding the enhanced cords together and gluing in the stone. It takes him a few tries—he’s much more used to the broad motions of fighting than the fine ones of braiding—but he’s proud of the eventual result. Gluing in the stone is much easier (although he does nearly set it in upside-down) and he’s content with his contributions.

Riju offers to stay throughout the process of actually forming the ring, as well as the additional customizations, which eases his mind as well. He trusts that the Chieftess wouldn’t lead him somewhere unreliable, but to have a friend watch over what is now his most precious belonging settles his nerves. She even offers him use of some of the same gold used to make Urbosa’s shield.

“A gift of the Gerudo,” she smiles, “for her protection from the Calamity, and a blessing from Lady Urbosa.”

Their hug is likely not proper, but no one dares say no.

_ “I knew you wouldn’t let us down, Link.” _

__

_ He hears the clicking of her heels on the stone steps as she descends and turns towards it. Urbosa’s eyes are proud, and even as a spirit she projects deadly strength. _

__

_ “I’ve waited so long to see you finally rush Hyrule Castle, as well as for the moment when I incinerate Ganon into a pile of ash!” A sharp smile punctuates her statement, “We Gerudo have no tolerance for unfinished business.” _

__

_ “It’s good to see you Urbosa.” _

__

_ Her spirit saunters over to him, and she places her hands on his shoulders. They don’t quite touch, but the idea of camaraderie translates just as well. “It’s good to see you as well, little Hero. Naboris and I support you and are ready to fight with you.” _

__

_ They stand for a moment in silence, until the Gerudo spirit turns somber. “Both you and the Princess...I know you have suffered much regarding what happened to us Champions. But this is how things had to happen. No one need carry blame.” Her stare is piercing in its sincerity, and he sees her muscles tense. “Please...make it clear she understands that. Tell her to shed any worries, and let her know... _

__

_ I couldn’t be more proud of her.” _

__

_ Link lifts his index finger to his chin, brings it out, spreading the rest of his fingers, and places his open palm onto his other fist. He knows, this time, that she understands, but he says the words out loud as well to solidify his intentions. “I promise.” _

__

_ The tension lifts as Urbosa places her hands on her hips, shifting saucily. He feels himself begin to dissolve and sends her a mock-salute. _

__

_ “Take good care of the Princess,” Urbosa calls casually with a wink, “Oh, and take good care of Hyrule.” _

__

Riju is practically bouncing when he returns to the jeweller. Her exuberance releases the last of the darkness clouding his mind—reminding him to focus not on the failures of the past but the opportunities of the present.

Seeing his finished wedding band floods him with excitement, as does explaining the Hylian tradition to a delightfully curious Riju.

* * *

_ My Zelda, _

__

_ See you soon! _

__

_ Your Link. _

* * *

He’s glad that he’d gone early.

The plan was to free Zelda on her birthday—to replace the darkest day in Hyrule’s history with the warm light of redemption. But after less than two days of waiting, Link finds that he can’t delay any longer.

Nayru preserve him, it’s a good thing he’d been so restless. Hyrule Castle is saturated with Guardians, monsters and malice.

He doesn’t go up through the main path, although it would be simplest. Instead, he enters from the north, through the docs. The Guardian forces are thinnest here and gliding down into the passage is relatively easy.

Dispatching the horde of Lizalfos is a challenge, but not impossible. Their jet-black scales are perfect camouflage in the inky darkness of the cave, but bomb arrows don’t have to be precise to inflict damage, and their high-pitched screeching gives him enough of an idea as to where to shoot.

Even so, the sun is setting when he makes it out into the library. Four Moblins is pushing his limits, and not even the adrenaline of battle is enough to carry him much further. He doesn’t want to crash somewhere even more hazardous, and he can feel the fogginess of returning memories creeping on the edge of his mind. Link drags the corpses to one corner of the room and begins his search for a suitable place to spend the night.

He hunkers down between two bookshelves, leaning his head against the cool stone wall behind him. Real sleep is a risk that Link’s not willing to take, and he doesn’t think it’s possible even if he were to try. He’s settling his breathing, riding the wave of half-formed memories that being in the Castle brings, when he notices it.

The last few rays of the sun peek through the dirty glass windows and land on the shelves directly opposite his standing. Many of the books are faded, the wood cracked and rotting, and the dying light highlights the decay. Except for one particular shelf.

Its books are faded, and some of the wood does indeed look rotten, but Link sees a small glare of reflected light between the cracks. A quick scan with Magnesis confirms: there’s metal there.

Out of curiosity, he connects with his magnet. After some experimentation, he manages to open the secret doorway, revealing a room seemingly untouched by malice. Link enters with sword drawn, all of his senses on alert.

Unless the spiders or the dust-blupees are armed, the room is deserted.

It’s mostly barren, covered more in dirt than anything else. A large metal chest sits next to an enormous desk, both worn but neither looking like they’re about to fall apart. On the desk lies an open journal, a quill, and an empty bottle of ink. Cobwebs cover every corner, and the carpet stinks of mould. But the wall-hangings are undisturbed, no claw marks or excrement can be seen (or smelled) anywhere in the room. Clearly, it’s remained undisturbed, so Link decides it would be a better place to regain his energy.

Leaving the door cracked open, Link tries to move the chest away from the desk so that he can sit somewhere less...disgusting. His muscles refuse to work, strained with exhaustion, and he's barely shifted it when he decides to take a break. His stomach is gurgling loud enough to wake the dead, and more enemies is the last thing he wants to deal with.

Link uses the edge of his cloak as a barrier and sits on top of the stubborn trunk. As he eats his packaged rice balls in silence, his eyes are drawn to the journal next to him.

He drags it to the edge of its desk with one hand, holding his meal away from the cloud of dirt that puffs up with the motion. He’s only scanning it, not reading with any depth, so it doesn’t register right away. Not until he reads the final line:

“ _ For now, I sit anxiously, more a father than a king in this moment. I sit and await my daughter's return.” _

__

More father than...

In his surprise, he nearly flings the diary away from him. Dust chokes him as it enters his nostrils, and he uses the coughing fit to calm his mind.

This is the King’s Journal.

This is the King’s study.

The King. Of Hyrule. These are his personal thoughts. He’s reading them. In this hideaway. The Hideaway of the King.

It’s too much to process, so Link puts the journal into his slate. He doesn’t want to (can’t, really) deal with everything that is potentially in this journal, not when he needs to be single-minded on his rescue mission. It’s safer for him to rest now, and deal with the emotional fallout when he’s not in imminent danger.

Additionally, he thinks that Zelda should read it first. It is  _ her _ father after all, and even the little he’d just read will mean more to her than him. He makes sure that both royal diaries are placed together, so that he knows to give them both to her.

Attempting to take his mind off of what he’d just accidentally discovered, Link turns his attention back to the chest. He feels stronger after even the brief rest he’d taken, and sure enough the chest moves from its spot with one forceful tug. The carpet underneath is just as rotted, and it tears as the trunk drags pieces of it away, but it’s still the cleanest part of the area.

With his cloak now coated in grime, it makes a perfect buffer between him and the questionable floor. He settles his ruby circlet on his head, which warms his body sufficiently against the damp chill. The warm doublet he rolls up into a makeshift pillow, chuckling at the use of the King’s coat in his own study.

(Why had he needed a coat when he was a ghost?)

Link rests fitfully, never quite managing to sleep but forcing his body to be still anyway. His brain is restless, half-forming plans using almost-remembered blueprints of the castle. Imagining what Ganon looks like, what his weaknesses might be based on the fragments of spirit he’s already faced. Worrying over Zelda, and what state she’s in. Wondering what’s in the trunk beside him.

...What’s in the trunk beside him?

He releases a slow breath, not wanting to get up but knowing that solving one mystery will help his mind to settle. He scooches over, shuffling against the wall on his bottom to the chest. The ornate metal box is sturdy, paint worn off and stained with dirt, but solid. Only the locking mechanism has decayed, rusted and flaking. A few hard whacks with the hilt of a discarded sword (because the Master Sword is too dignified) cause the lid to spring open.

Inside is a shield, elaborately decorated. The silver border dips occasionally into the royal blue background. The Triforce gleams a vibrant gold from its place nestled between two angular curves, and a red bird appears to soar towards it from below.

Link’s always felt uncomfortable with a shield, preferring the freedom of movement to the safety of an extra piece of armour. As such, he’d travelled without one most of his life, but something about this specific shield was...

A piece of folded paper floats to the ground as he lifts the shield for closer inspection. Placing the metal aside for a moment, he opens the worn parchment tenderly.

That it’s addressed to him shocks him so much he drops it.

It takes several deep breaths before he’s ready to even touch the note again. Hadn’t he already decided he wasn’t going to deal with any emotional surprises until  _ after _ defeating Calamity Ganon?

And yet...if this has been preserved here, waiting for him...

(Why did the ghost have a coat? Because he knew that Link would need it.)

He opens the note with a groan, eyes closed and body tense as though the words would leap from the page and attack him.

When his courage is ready, he reads.

_ Link, _

__

_ In case you find this before I've had a chance to talk to you personally, I'm attaching this letter. It's likely a waste of parchment, but so be it. _

__

_ I awoke this morning with a terrible sense of dread and a single obsessive thought. I almost stopped you and Her Highness from going, but I understand how important it is for Zelda to go to the Spring as soon as possible. _

__

_ In this chest, as you can see, is my Shield. I can't shake the idea that you'll need it more than I will, and the King has given me permission to store it here. I know you don’t like to use them, but I want you to have it anyways. _

__

_ Link, you are a wonderful warrior and a passionate protector. More than that, you're an incredible role-model for your sister, and a valued son. _

__

_ I'm exceedingly proud of you, and I know your mother is as well. _

__

_ Come find me if you find this note, and we can have a laugh about my growing soft and paranoid. _

__

__

_ Ralon _

__

The first thing that strikes him is that he inherited his father's handwriting. The letters are nearly identical, except for their spacing and neatness.

Emotions swell powerfully after—and he doesn’t try to interpret them. Instead, he holds the shield close, hugging it against him even as the firm edges dig into his arms and stomach, and sleeps.

* * *

She’s not really  _ there _ during the battle, but she’s close.

It’s been her reality for the last 100 years, so Zelda’s fairly used to it. This...halfway point is unpleasant, but at the very least she’s not physically holding back the beast.

(Part of her thinks that this is what caterpillars must feel like, trapped in their cocoons until they’re ready to fly.)

Link arrives exactly on the anniversary, down to the minute. It’s terribly impressive, although she doubts he planned to be so precise. Her power has been fading for days now, but it's her elation at seeing her Knight again that provides the distraction Ganon needs to break free.

If she weren’t so weary, she’d be embarrassed.

She’s still connected to Ganon, however loosely, so she feels the exact second that the Divine Beasts strike him, blinding beams of power tearing into his flesh. She’s also connected to the Champions, so she feels Link’s triumph at the same time as the spirits of her friends unleash their battle cries.

Their warring emotions are overwhelming after a century of emptiness, so she turns herself off as much as she can. That leaves little room for her to help Link, but Zelda has faith in him. He doesn’t need her help, not yet, and she needs to recharge.

This time when she seals him away, Calamity Ganon won’t be back.

* * *

Her words fill him with confidence and chase the fatigue from his bones.

“Courage need not be remembered...for it is never forgotten.”

Link smiles as he spurs his horse on. He’s glad he’d chosen to take Groose to the castle—the broad animal’s spirit is as fiery as his mane, and he doesn’t fear anything. Hylian and Horse fight as one, targeting the places Zelda indicates and dodging the Beast’s attacks with precision and agility. Until...

He can’t find the last spot, and panic begins to set in. How can he win if there is no weakness to exploit? His energy is fading, mind clouding as his emotions begin to spiral, when he hears Zelda’s voice yelling at him, both in his ears and in his mind.

“Link! Look up there!”

Sure enough, an enormous eye bulges unnaturally from the middle of the Beast’s head. His stomach recoils at the sight, the pure evil piercing him as the eye gazes towards his form, Malice spilling like blood from the corners of the opening.

“That is the very core of Ganon’s being!” Zelda cries, excited, “Do what you must Link!”

What he must?

Link dismounts, sending Groose into the nearby woods for safety. It’s recklessness perhaps, but he refuses to let anyone else be hurt—even his horse. An eerie calm settles over him as he walks toward the Beast, sword in hand.

He’s going to face his destiny, and he’s determined to be the victor.

Such is the fate of The Hero.

Ganon paws at the ground, enraged, and roars. It shakes the ground, yet Link continues forwards. In response, Ganon’s hog-like snout gores the ground, summoning a column of fire that springs from the earth.

Directly at Link.

Link raises his father’s shield, realizing the futility of the action only seconds before the inferno consumes him.

“ _ Hang in there, Little Guy!” _

Instead of burning to ashes, Link is enveloped in an orange crystal cage. The fire roars around him, parting as it hits Daruk’s Protection. Bolstered, Link continues his journey forwards.

When he’s within range of the Core, Ganon shuts the opening. No matter where Link turns, the eye does not remain open long enough for him to get in a clean shot. Even the Bow of Light can’t seem to pierce the pure evil protecting the vulnerable spot.

Nocking another arrow, Link feels righteous fury overtake him.

“ _ A parting gift, from the Gerudo!” _

His fingers crackle with energy, and the arrow he releases carries a trail of lightning behind it. It strikes its mark with a thundering boom, and though the eye remains closed Ganon’s body spasms as the shockwaves course through him.

“ _ Need a lift, Hero?” _

__

Wind begins to pool at Link’s feet, and he summons his paraglider as he jumps into the gale. In his mind's eye he sees Revali’s smirk, but Link is grateful nonetheless. He’s floating silently when Ganon frees himself from Urbosa’s lightning. The Beast swivels its head wildly, searching the land for its foe. When it can't find him, Ganon relaxes its defenses.

The second its freakish eye is visible; Link lets go of the glider and prepares his bow.

Time slows down as he nocks the arrow.

He knows they’ve won, together.

Ganon’s protruding eye locks onto him, and he can see fear in the yellow iris.

The arrow flies.

It strikes true.

* * *

For the first time in 100 years, she has a body.

Ganon tries to escape, ripping himself away from her and banishing his physical form just as her eyes adjust to her surroundings.

She’s weak, tired, and all she wants to do is turn around and hold the boy who’s fallen to the ground behind her.

But Zelda is also furious, hopeful and secure in their victory.

Sealing him away is as simple as raising her hand and thinking “goodbye.”

...

She’s rambling, and she knows it. But it’s been so long, and she’d seen him...

He’s standing behind her now, and it doesn’t matter that they’re victorious. It doesn’t matter that she’s been watching over him, or that she’s proven herself, Zelda is nervous.

She’s scared to turn around and face him, despite facing the embodiment of evil in his purest form not five minutes ago.

Watching him die failed to break her, but Zelda knows that if she turns around and Link doesn’t know her, she will be destroyed.

“Thank you, Link,” she says, smiling towards the ground as she shuffles to face him, “Hero of Hyrule.”

They’re barely two paces apart. She can see his worn boots, and the way he’s favouring one side. Feeling his gaze on her, Zelda clasps her hands in front of her chest so tightly that her knuckles turn white and her fingers hurt.

“May I ask,” she whispers when she can’t stand the silence anymore, stealing her nerves and meeting his eyes, “do you really remember me?”

* * *

He’s 19 (or 119) and her voice is a melody he would gladly listen to for the rest of his life.

Green eyes look shyly up at him, and Link’s heart skips a beat. He’s pretty sure he’s stopped breathing.

“May I ask, do you really remember me?”

He’s so lost in her, focusing on every detail he can see and memorizing it, that he nearly misses the question. It doesn’t register until her face starts to fall, and he realizes his silence is perceived as a negative response.

And that, simply, won’t do.

Wordlessly, he sheathes his sword (mentally thanking it, and receiving its joyful notes). He limps towards her slowly, carefully, like she’s a wounded animal. He sees her breath catch, and body tense, but when she doesn’t move away Link continues forwards.

The hug starts out gentle, because he’s honestly scared she’s not real.

She grasps him fiercely, and he matches her intensity. Emotions bubble up in his throat, and he sobs out a laugh into her dirty blonde hair. Zelda joins him, cry-laughing hysterically until they’re both kneeling on the ground, still holding each other.

Link’s not sure how long they stay like that, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t let go, even when his adrenaline fades and his injuries start to make themselves known. He’s content to stay here forever, but his Princess notices the blood on his tunic eventually and moves slightly away.

“Goddesses above!” she exclaims, “You’re hurt! How...what do I...?”

“ _ It would be my pleasure, _ ” interrupts Mipha’s voice. A soft turquoise glow surrounds the couple, and Link watches as his wounds knit themselves shut. His breathing comes easier, his swollen ankle stops its throbbing and decreases to its normal size. Zelda too, looks somewhat refreshed.

“...Mipha?” she breathes, looking towards the darkening sky.

Link doesn’t have the words to explain, can’t describe how their friends have helped him. Instead, he pulls Zelda closer and rests his forehead on hers. She smiles at him, causing his heart to stop again, and they let another long moment pass.

“Link?”

“Hmm?”

“It’s silly but...I’m scared.”

He leans his head back so that she can see his raised eyebrows.

“I just...I’m scared that, if I let go...you’ll leave. And I just got you back, and after all we’ve—”

Link places his hand on her mouth, silencing her with a smile. He shifts their position so that they’re practically tangled in each other's laps.

“My Zelda,” he signs, keeping his face soft, “don’t worry. I’m right here.

“I’ll always be right here, with you.”


	6. Fastened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To make firm or stable; to establish, settle, confirm

She’s 18 and starting to heal.

It takes her almost a month to adjust to having a body again. She keeps trying to move via awareness alone, and when she does remember to walk it’s shaky and uncoordinated. Things like eating and drinking are additionally complicated, because she keeps...forgetting about them. After spending 100 years as little more than a spirit, Zelda feels like a newborn calf navigating the world for the first time.

So much has changed, and it’s jarring. She’d been aware of the Age of Burning Fields, had mourned for her people during the entire century. She remembers the razed villages they’d passed through, known that the population had been cut to a fraction of its previous size. These things she’s prepared for, and while the overgrown ruins pain her, they’re not surprising.

What scares her is the little ways life is different. The Hylian tongue hasn’t changed, but the accents between regions are much more pronounced. No one sounds like her, although Link comes close. Customs and styles are foreign to her, and she finds herself relaying on her Knight to avoid embarrassment wherever she goes. The people are somehow both more connected and startlingly separate from each other.

There’s no mail system anymore, and for whatever reason this sticks in her mind as the strangest thing.

Link takes her to Kakariko right from the castle, and she bursts into tears at Impa’s frail form. The Sheikah chief is not even a year older than she is and seeing her dearest friend so shrivelled and weak is what drives home the enormity of what she’s lost.

(Impa’s  _ spirit _ is no different than it was the last time they’d spoken. “You owe me 900 ‘tea and catch up’ sessions, my dear, and I plan to use up all of them before I keel over!”)

Purah risks a visit, and Zelda mistakenly calls her by the name of one of the village children. The not-child is only momentarily annoyed (“Years of confinement have affected the subject's visual skills...”) before whisking her away for a checkup, pelting her with questions, and detailing plans for their continued research.

...

It doesn’t take long for Kakariko to feel stifling. She keeps waiting for the axe to drop—for the Sheikah to stop being nice to her and demand something. Friendly stares become laden with suspicion and expectation, and she panics.

Link finds her above the village, hiding behind the fairy fountain struggling to catch her breath.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, taking her hands from her face, “Just breathe with me, okay? You’re going to be just fine.”

...

They’d initially planned to visit each of the different races, travelling the kingdom declaring Ganon’s defeat.

They don’t even make it to the Dueling Peaks Stable.

She doesn’t now or understand what’s wrong with her—she’d just seen the gathering of people and... shut down. She hides behind Link the entire time they’re there, and her voice seems to shrivel up and die. She can’t make eye-contact with anyone and can’t eat even Link’s delicious meals if she thinks people are watching her. Instead of sleeping, she sits awake on the soft bed, forcing her eyes to stay open and keeping watch. Link, who isn’t really sleeping either, comes and sits next to her, holding her close. Normally it's comforting, but all she can think about is the scandal that will break if anyone sees them so close on a bed.

He must feel her go tense, because he takes his arm back and scoots so that he’s not quite so close.

She’s dead tired in the morning, and only Link’s arms around her keep her sitting upright on the horse. That’s probably why she doesn’t realize they’re going the wrong way until they’ve passed Fort Hateno.

“Wait...where are we going?!”

“Sorry,” Link says behind her, “I forgot that I need to grab some stuff from home. It shouldn’t take long.”

Zelda doesn’t quite know how to feel—she's simultaneously relieved for the delay and furious that he’s surprising her. “You should have told me before we left.”

“Didn’t I? Sorry.”

They ride the rest of the way in silence, while Zelda stews over her surprise outburst. She really didn’t mean to snap, but apologizing seems so...

He should have told her! And... maybe he did but she hadn’t understood, so he should have made sure! Although maybe she’d understood, and forgotten? Could that be possible? Link’s slumber took his memories away, could hers have taken her ability to form new ones?

Wait...did he say...

Link guides Groose off the path, and through some impressive horsemanship they manage to make it to Hateno without going through the main gate. She’s beyond thankful, considering her last social failure, and she relaxes into the relief that she has some more time to prepare.

The house they stop at is more of a cottage, cobblestone dotting the walls and covering the large chimney. A fence curves around a field of wildflowers, a large apple tree to one side and a pond just outside of it. A two-stalled stable stands adjacent to the main building leads into the fenced area, and Zelda can see that one of the stalls is occupied.

Link opens the back gate and leads Groose in. He’s barely helped her dismount when Groose whinnies, and Link laughs. They each give the horse a kind word and a gentle pat (“He’s an attention hound, and I’m a sucker”). Zelda trails behind Link awkwardly as he secures the back gate, desperately wanting to explore but not wanting to be rude or nosey.

“You’re allowed to look around you know.”

He’s not looking at her, but she hears the suppressed laughter in his voice. It’s comforting, that he’s teasing her and that he can already tell what she’s thinking after only a few weeks.

“I wouldn’t want to be rude; what would the residents think if some random person was poking around their house? Especially when that person is the Princess?”

Link pauses and looks over his shoulder at her. One eyebrow is raised, but when he sees that she’s serious he turns to look at her fully with a more serious expression. “I don’t think he’d mind,” he reveals, “considering that he’s the one who brought you here?”

“This is  _ your _ house?!”

He smiles and nods, moving to take her hand. She’s led to a sign that, sure enough, says “Link’s House” in clear, bold letters.

“...This sign is new,” she blurts, stating the first thing that comes to her mind.

“Um…yeah? They were going to demolish it, but I managed to buy it before they could. Then I rescued the builder—several times—so he fixed it up and added the sign.”

“No, I mean...is this your house from before?”

Link blinks at her.

“You mentioned that your family had a house in Hateno, back before...before.”

The blood drains from Link’s face, and his eyes stare right through her. She panics slightly, but notices that he’s still breathing and standing. Only a few seconds pass before he comes back to himself with a sharp inhale, walking towards the house and placing a hand on the ivory walls.

“That would be why I felt so drawn to it,” he mumbles, “I had no idea.”

Zelda shifts her weight awkwardly, fingers tapping a steady rhythm against her crossed arms. She feels like she should apologize but doesn’t know what for.

“Anyway,” Link breaks the moment by walking towards her, taking her hand again, “that’s not why we’re here. I have a surprise for you!”

Uneasiness stirs in her stomach, and she bites her lip to keep the butterflies from escaping. She’s never been a huge fan of surprises, but she trusts Link to not spring something terrible on her. He’s never surprised her with something bad before...

He leads her to the occupied stall where a snow-white mare is nibbling at the grass around the stable, yellow tail swishing happily. It’s an almost perfect copy of her old horse, and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from crying.

“Zelda, meet Ilia,” Link encourages, “Ilia, this is Zelda.”

Ilia saunters right up to Zelda, sniffing at her and nudging her. It takes the Hylian by surprise—she’s never met a horse so openly friendly, and the horse she'd previously had seemed to hate her.

“She likes you,” Link stage-whispers, smiling.

Zelda nods, stroking Ilia’s neck gently.

“She’s yours,” he offers shyly, “if you want her?”

“I...” she chews on her lip, not looking away from the horse, “I don’t know if I remember how to ride.”

He looks away, fidgeting with the slate still on his hip. “Oh. Well...if you like, we can stay here? You can find out—or relearn.”

“But...what about—”

“There’s no rush to go,” he interrupts softly, “since Ganon is gone, it’s not like there’s a threat. I um...I figured that...maybe you’d like to...I mean I know that you’re...”

Link sighs, running a hand over his face. Zelda turns to face him, Ilia trotting over to greet Groose. Her knight scrunches up his face and shakes out his hands.

“I know,” he signs, keeping his expression mostly neutral, “that you like to be independent. It’s totally up to you, but I thought maybe you’d want to present yourself that way when we go? Horses can’t go to some places, but we’ll have to stop at stables in between and...” he shrugs with one shoulder, looking off to the side, “It’s up to you.”

Tension she hadn’t been aware she was holding rushes out of her body so fast she almost stumbles. She wraps him in a hug and laughs at his surprised squeak. When she pulls back, she looks him dead in the eye and projects her thanks.

“Need your words, Zel.”

“Oh...right.” There’s no fighting the blush that blooms over her face and neck, but she matches his smile in spite of it. “I was trying to tell you that I think it’s a perfect idea, and I’m incredibly grateful that you remembered that about me. I think that I’ll take you up on the offer since, as you say, there’s no rush. Although...” She coughs in embarrassment, but his earnest expression encourages her to continue. “I did quite enjoy riding with you.”

Link beams at her, and the pair walk towards where they’d left the saddlebags against the fence.

“Me too.”

* * *

He’s an accomplished hero, saviour of Hyrule, and completely out of his depth.

He’s not...surprised, exactly. He’d known that Zelda would struggle to adjust to life after the Calamity, just as he had. They’d lost so much, but where he didn’t even really realize it until he’d had time to adapt (at least a little), she was trying to find her way through the new world  _ and _ carry on the memories of a century ago. It was a heavy burden, and he knew better than to expect her to bear it without issues.

But Zelda takes her recovery as a personal challenge. One of the first things she decides is that, as princess, she needs to go and meet her people--no matter how anxious it makes her. So once a week, without fail, the Hylian Woman goes into town and finds someone new to talk to. She comes back every week without fail and practically collapses, shaking and hyperventilating, but she does it. Link makes sure to tell her how proud he is while he holds her close and helps her relax.

When it's clear she remembers how to ride, they go exploring together. Not far, but enough that she can gather specimens to study.

She asks him if she can plant a garden, and it becomes their project. There's a section for food, and, at Purah's suggestion, a section for science.

But he’s no dummy. For all her bravado and cheer, he knows that she’s struggling. He also knows that she’s hiding her struggles from him, but can’t figure out how to approach the situation gracefully.

Ever so often, Link will catch her in a moment of weakness. She'll stubble over nothing or drink her tea while it's still basically boiling. Little things that she tries to brush off, but he knows better.

There's one terrifying day where they're both outside playing with Groose and Ilia. He goes inside for a glass of water, and when he comes back out, she's on the ground. Both horses nudge her, but Zelda doesn't emerge from her curled-up form. Pure, protective instinct drives him to pick her up, and as soon as he's close enough the trembling girl throws her arms around his neck and buries her face in his shoulder. They spend the rest of the day curled up underneath a blanket fort, going through the pictures Link had taken over the course of his adventure. Zelda seems fine the next day—she doesn't bring it up so neither does he.

(He lives in fear of the day when their shutdowns are simultaneous)

...

Sharing a bed had  _ not _ been his idea.

...Link’s not...opposed either, but it hadn’t been his idea.

“But it’s your house!” Zelda counters his offer, hands balled in fists on her hips.

“But I won’t sleep in it!” he returns, fingers firm and expression hard.

“Well you should!”

“You need rest more than I do an—”

“I wouldn’t even Be Here to need rest if it weren’t for you!”

“...Well...well I spent so long sleeping on the ground, I don’t even  _ like _ sleeping on beds anymore!”

Zelda outright laughs at him. “And I’m Morphia, prince of the Moblins. You may be a tough soldier, but I know how much you enjoy resting in comfort—even when you don't sleep!”

Link growls, running his hands over his face and pulling lightly at his hair. He’d forgotten why he doesn’t debate her, and this is an unfortunate reminder. “Okay, point taken.”

“Hah!”

“But you’re still taking the bed!”

“What?! No!!”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Link focuses on breathing deeply. It would do no good to have this blow up into a full fight, but he’s not going to back down. Why is Hylia’s name is his fiancée so stubborn!?

“Link...” her tone was softer, more hesitant, and the sudden change caused him to open his eyes and look at her. Her body is still on the offense—arms locked down at her sides, fists clenched tightly and tilted forward—but it was in opposition to her face, which is turned away from him and towards the floor. “I... I don’t know if this would work but... could we...share?”

The squeak he makes is undignified, but at least his blush matches hers.

“It’s not...I mean...” Zelda huffs, tucking an imaginary strand of hair behind her ear, “I’ve found that I don’t like...being alone. Surely you noticed at Kakariko?”

He nods, because he had. He’d been so paranoid about losing her again, however irrational, that he’d sat next to her bed, sword across his knees, all night. At some point, her hand had fallen down and landed on his head. When he’d looked up, she’d been awake. Sheepishly, she’d taken her hand back to sign “Stay?” and when he’d nodded placed it right back. That’s how they’d spent every night, although neither of them had spoken about it.

“I just—I guess we could do the same thing, but...”

“But you’d like something a little less ‘Princess and Knight’ and a little more ‘Link and Zelda’” he finishes, taking her hands.

“Mhm.”

“Well,” he drawls, stretching his voice out as though he’s thinking hard, “If you insist, I suppose I can lower myself to allow your presence in my sleeping quarters...”

Her mouth opens and closes for a while, emerald eyes almost popping out of her skull. “Never mind! I’ve changed my mind, and you’re not allowed!”

It’s awkward at first. The bed is small and they each try to make it as un-intimate as possible. But after the first few nights of waking up curled into each other, a mess of tangled limbs and blushing faces, they adapt.

He sleeps better with the contact, but the nightmares still come. Link thanks every single Goddess multiple times that Zelda never seems to wake for them. He has no idea how or why, but he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The first time  _ Zelda _ has a nightmare, he’s not even sleeping.

Link’s awake, but exhausted. A fragile feeling plagues him—has plagued him all day—and he knows that if he sleeps, they’ll be bad things waiting. Instead he’s lying still, keeping his breathing and trying to move Zelda’s braided hair off of his face with just his facial expressions.

(He must have been asleep briefly to even get into this position—she certainly hadn’t fallen asleep on his chest, and he has no memory of how that would have happened.)

One second, her breath is normal. The next, it hitches, and her fingers grasp his tunic. He hears her distressed mumblings as she rolls off of him. Link’s up in a second, reaching out to wake her up, but...he hesitates.

No one had ever been there to witness his own nightmares, so no one had ever woken him up. The last thing he wants is for the girl beside him to suffer but he also didn’t want to hurt her himself. Could one wake another from a nightmare? Was it dangerous to do so? Would touch and sound be enough, or would that add to her terror?

Zelda grows more and more distressed as he debates, mumbled cries of alarm pass her lips and she manages to kick their blankets onto the floor. It breaks his heart, to see her so scared. Desperately, he sends a prayer to Nayru that this choice is the right one and shakes her awake.

She falls off the bed.

Like an idiot, he joins her.

It’s clear she’s dazed, eyes glassy with tears and face pale in the moonlight that shines from the window. Her breath comes in gasps, and she curls into herself. He doesn’t try to pull her out, just wraps the blanket around them (pulling what was left of it off the bed) and hums softly. After a moment, her watery eyes meet his, and she flings her entire body at him.

From his position on the floor, it’s not hard to catch her or hold her while she cries. Try as he might, he can’t make out the word in between the sobs, so he rubs slow circles on her back and rocks gently until she’s spent.

“I’m sorry,” she hiccups eventually, “I don’t mean to be weak like this. It won’t happen again.”

For a second, Link’s confused. She moves to get up, but he tenses his hold around her while he plays over every conversation he can remember to try and figure out where she gets that idea. He comes up empty, but that’s not unusual given his memory.

“What?”

“I should be stronger than this; I can’t be having nightmares like a... like an infant!”

His confusion deepens. “Zelda...who...what? Why would you think that?”

She shrugs, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Zel...” he sighs, frowning when she looks even further away, “I have them too.”

Her eyebrows shoot into her hairline as her head snaps up.

“Yeah,” he breathes, embarrassed but determined, “all the time. I trained my body to be still and silent when they happen, since I didn’t want to deal with attracting monsters.”

Zelda squints at him, so he moves on before she can unravel the lie. “But anyway, nightmares aren’t weak. You’re...allowed to show emotion, you know, even bad ones.”

“No, I can’t.”

“‘Course you can.”

“I can’t!” she exclaims, grabbing his forearms desperately, “I can’t! I’m a Princess, I have a duty to be strong all the time, no matter what. And especially now, after my failure caused so much suffering...I don’t  _ get _ to show negative emotions! I shouldn’t even feel them, let alone burden other people with them!”

Her rant brings on a fresh set of tears, and she pulls away from him. He’s so startled that he lets her, and she crumbles into the wall behind her.

“Hey...” he soothes, “Hey... you’re alright.”

“No! Don’t you get it Link?! I’m—”

“You’re a young lady who tried her best, and had an awful experience,” he stops her sternly, You’re a girl who was trapped away for so long, all by herself, and now has to figure out how the world has changed.”

She sniffles and looks up at him when he scoots a little bit closer.

“No one expects anything of you; there’s no one left to judge you and even if there was, you’ve done more than enough already! And you suffered for it; I can’t imagine how awful it must have been to be alone with the most ancient evil in our world for a century,” he whispers. 

A shudder surges through her body.

“You’re allowed to feel bad, and to let those feelings out.”

“But—”

“Even if you can’t do it with other people, you can do it with me. Okay?”

For a few moments she just stares at him, bewildered. Then, she holds up her hand, little finger extended.

“Only,” she sniffs, “only if you do the same with me.”

Curling his smallest finger around hers, he smiles. “It’s a deal.”

* * *

As nice as it was to relax, she’s happy to be on the road again.

Her powers hum just beneath her skin, steady and warm. She could, if she wanted, warp both her and Link to their destination. But riding together, side by side through the vast landscape...it feels right.

Additionally, Ilia is a fantastic mount, and Zelda wants to spend more time with her.

They don’t travel quickly by design. Link uses the time to fill Zelda in on what to expect as they come to each kingdom, and she appreciates the advanced information. If they end up arriving at the stables too late to socialize, it’s only because there’s a lot she still has to learn. And if they leave before most patrons are awake, it’s because they have a lot of ground to cover.

Zora’s Domain is first, both because of its proximity and because, according to Link, it’s the only place that hasn’t changed. It’s also the only place she will be recognized as Princess, and the only people who will know that she failed. Anxiety swirls like a whirlpool in her gut as they arrive—and the friendly guard greets them by name fails to dismiss it. They don’t get far before Sidon spots them; his energetic optimism is a welcome surprise.

King Dorephan declares the day of their arrival as a day of feasting and celebration. The party lasts all night and into the next morning, which puts the Hylian duo in a bit of a bind—the attention is draining, and all Zelda can think about is how Mipha should be here to celebrate with them.

Sidon provides their escape, asking quite loudly if they’ve told the other inhabitants of Hyrule yet. He happily ushers them out when Link answers that they haven’t and has the gall to flash them a sparkling smile as they leave. She’s momentarily aghast, but Link explains that no one will think them rude—the Zora have long since grown used to their prince’s volume and impulsively helpful nature.

(She thinks she sees the Zora Princess several times, rejoicing with them as a spirit. Zelda’s not sure until the translucent ghost waves at them, and Link waves shyly back. There is peace as Mipha fades away, finally at rest.)

...

When they arrive at Goron city and deliver the news, the Goron’s respond with a party that threatens to awaken Death Mountain. They declare both Hylians honorary ‘brothers’ and dedicate several booming drum solos to them both. Yunobo even offers her the best part of his rock roast but is more than happy to accept it back when she declines.

(Daruk’s hearty chuckle rises above the noise, and Link stumbles forward seemingly at random. The place in her mind where the Goron once resided is empty by the time they set out.)

...

The Rito are more subtle, something Zelda’s eardrums especially are thankful for. They gather together on the islands below the village, each family bringing food enough to share as they feast together. Six fledgling Rito all but attack Link when they see him, dropping down from the sky and tackling him to the ground. She wastes no time in snapping a photo, although it's blurry from her laughter. Link introduces her to each fledgling in turn—starting with the pale-feathered Tulin and making his way quite impressively to all five pastels. The Hylians sit with the young Rito, and Link’s telling them some grandiose story about defeating a Hinox when both sets of parents arrive with food. Zelda barks out a laugh again when her partner’s story ends abruptly—coincidentally at the same time there’s food in front of him.

“Still a glutton, I see?”

“Actually, I prefer the term “connoisseur.”

Kass pulls her aside before they leave, and hands her a piece of paper. It’s the photo of all of the Champions together, after the ball. “My mentor gave it to me,” he explains, folding the photo into her hands, “and I think, Your Highness, that he’d have wanted you to have it.” 

(It’s not until they leave that she notices the absence of Revali’s spirit. But there’s a warm breeze at her feet, and the sense that Rito Village will always be protected.)

...

Gerudo Town brings back all the apprehension that had been draining away. She’s never been to the walled city without Urbosa there to greet her, and the idea of going in alone has her biting her lip almost raw.

Link’s “disguise” brightens her thoughts considerably, although not enough to make her comfortable. She’s thankful that she won’t be alone, but the wound where Urbosa’s motherly presence once was takes priority.

Riju takes one look at her and throws decorum to the sands—leaping off her throne and hugging her. Zelda finds it easy to return the gesture, formal words forgotten as she embraces the younger girl. They get along like a house on fire, talking late into the night and exchanging embarrassing stories about “Dame Link”. He takes it gracefully and adds his own hilarious commentary.

Riju shows her Urbosa’s diary and holds her while she cries. They talk of their mothers, of the pain of losing one's mentor too early and the struggles of being a young ruler. The Gerudo chieftain tells them all she’s learned of Aryll, which doesn’t hurt as much as Zelda had feared—knowing that her ‘sister’ had lived a happy life is comforting, and Zelda finds her grief turned to determination: Riju won’t ever replace the girl she lost, but that doesn’t mean there’s no room in her heart for another little sister.

(She’s mostly asleep when she hears it. Cracking one eye open, she smiles at Urbosa’s spirit walking towards her. The ghost plants a kiss on her forehead, brushes away the lingering tears on her cheeks, and fades away.)

...

Typically, she doesn’t have the same kind of reactions that Link does.

He regains new memories ever so often, and the near-catatonic state he enters causes guilt to gnaw at her insides. When he comes back to himself, he normally smiles and shares them with her—even when they’re not pleasant. She adds her own commentary if it's something she also remembers and helps him sort out the timeline of events.

While not overly frequent, Zelda’s certainly seen some of what he calls his “attacks”. They terrify her, but she’s glad that Link trusts her enough to not hide them. She knows what the most likely triggers are, and she keeps an up-to-date list of ways to help—everything from soft blankets to buckets of cold water.

But for her? She’s had her fair share of meltdowns, but they...aren’t quite the same. They’re not new for starters: she had them before the Calamity. While she has noticed that she seems to have a lower tolerance for stress, she’s never noticed anything external that causes them. At least, not the way it seems to be with Link.

Occasionally, she finds her skin will itch and burn—like it’s drawn to something external. The first time it happened had been excruciating, and she’d been frantic to find a solution. Link had grabbed her hand and she paced around the house and had accidentally discovered the cure: she just needed human contact. Zelda counts herself lucky—her fiancé was already a hug-y person, so it’s not a burden for her to snuggle up to him when she’s feeling poorly.

She finds that she still can’t fully relax in the rain. What used to be a relaxing sound fills her with anxious energy, every task becomes urgent no matter how small or meaningless. The first Hateno thunderstorm had petrified her—all-consuming darkness and thunder that vibrated her bones. 

When she socializes for too long, or stays in one place she finds that people seem to...change. Friendly gestures are suddenly malicious, every conversation is filled with gossip and she starts to crumble under the pressure of their expectations. Her whole life had been one long assignment to find her power, and then a desperate mission to keep her people safe. Now there’s...nothing. She starts to make up little jobs, and if nothing else Purah is delighted by her weekly visits to the lab in search of any task she can do.

Once, she’d fallen asleep on Link’s side of the bed by accident and woke up between his body and the wall. Her panicked whimpering had woken him up, and it had taken hours for her to breathe freely again.

Things like Guardians, or mementos of the past, these things don’t seem to bother her at all. She’d been delighted to see Robbie, and to experiment with his guardian remains—and Link had been more than happy to help her dismantle the empty husks.

(She’d been absolutely  _ livid _ when she discovered that Robbie had been charging Link for weapons and armour. Likely, he can still hear her scolding even now.)

So, when Link hands her two journals, her first emotion is curiosity. Mortification is next, when her brain catches up to her eyes and she recognizes  _ her own, private diary _ . Zelda shoots a glare at his fake-neutral face, and feels the blush creeping up her neck.

“Please, for the love of Hylia tell me you didn’t read this...”

If she didn’t know him better, his attempt at an unemotional shrug may have worked. As it is, however, she can see the twinkle in his eye and the twitches of his lips as he struggles not to smile. With a groan she buries her heated face in her hands, feeling her soul leave her body.

Her traitorous fiancé coughs pointedly, and she peeks through her fingers at him.

“I just thought you should have it back,” he signs, clearly sincere, “and I didn’t read it to snoop—I just...wanted to get to know you.”

It’s a sweet sentiment, but it doesn’t cool the embarrassment burning inside her. She takes her hands from her face to sign that he’s forgiven but doesn’t dare meet his eyes.

“And...” he continued verbally, “I... well I found...”

She does look at him when his voice peters off. Zelda knows that he feels more comfortable speaking with his hands, but he’s much more vocal now than he was prior. It’s highly unusual for his voice to fail him in normal conversation, and especially when he was clearly having fun a moment ago (at her expense!)

“The other journal belonged to your father,” he signs, face soft and gestures gentle.

“...What?”

Link sits next to her on the bed, and pulls the other worn diary overtop of hers. “I found a secret study,” he continues, “in the castle Library. It had this in it. It belonged to your father, and I... I thought you should have it.”

There are too many emotions to process, too much new information in that sentence alone. Her father had a secret study? And a secret diary? How had she not known—the library was basically her second bedroom! Thoughts swirl around Zelda’s mind like a tornado, whipping by so fast that she can’t latch onto a single one with enough time to fully understand it.

In a single, fluid motion, Zelda gathers both books up and marches down the stairs to the bookshelf. She places them on the bottom shelf, pivots on her toes, and walks back up to her stone-still fiancé.

“Thank you Link,” she says diplomatically, pleased with how little her voice is shaking, “I appreciate it. I do not have the ability to read them now, but I am very much grateful to have the possibility. I am going outside, so if you need me...”

She’s out the door before he can respond.

(Zelda reads her father’s journal that night, tucked under Link’s supportive arm and the warm glow of the lantern. She weeps at his last entry, flinging the book away. She can’t quite forgive him yet, but at the very least she knows that he loved her.)

(When her tears have run out, and she lays awake in bed, it hits her. An overwhelming sensation of  _ love _ and  _ pride _ . The warmth threatens to smother her, and yet she can’t help but bask in it. “I love you too, Papa.” she whispers to the darkness, and falls asleep knowing that his spirit has found peace at last.)

* * *

He’s 20, and he’s never been more sure of anything.

True, there’s no song in his soul to guide him, or a voice from above to give him instruction. No ghosts or wise matriarchs have given him this task. This is a choice he is making for no reason other than because he wants to, and he’s doing it entirely alone.

...Well, not entirely alone.

She will need to say yes.

Link’s certain she will, and not just because she’s already proposed to him. It’s been almost a year since Ganon’s defeat, but it’s almost like they hadn’t spent 100 years apart. There’d been some rocky moments, especially at the start, but there’s no one in the entire kingdom he feels more comfortable with. She hasn’t said as much, but he doesn’t think it’s a stretch to think she feels the same.

(After all, it wasn’t just anyone who you could have an hour-long argument about Cuccos with, and it wasn’t just anyone who you could laugh with afterwards.)

Initially, he’d planned to propose immediately after rescuing her. He’d wanted to give her a fairy-tale ending to their quest—the brave knight rescues the princess and they live ‘happily ever after’ together. But the battle had been intense, both physically exhausting and emotionally draining, and then...

When he saw Zelda for the first time, he was so overcome with relief and joy that he entirely forgot about his grand gesture.

Then, he was going to propose more casually as they’d returned home. His ring had stayed in his side-pouch, next to Aryll’s bird, for their entire journey—and he’d wanted to pop the question as soon as they’d left the desert. But it hadn’t felt right, to simply stop her in between camps and place the ring on her finger. His potential line of “Now we're even” had, in hindsight, been...bad. There was no other way of putting it than bad.

Nayru had been looking out for him, apparently.

They’d been home for maybe a week when the idea came to him. Immediately he felt it was perfect and had begun planning. Enlisting Purah and Impa to help had been easy enough—the eldest Sheikah especially was more than happy to play her part.

Link shakes his fiancée awake just after dawn, basically bouncing with excitement.

“St’oo irly...” she mumbles, burying deeper in her pillow.

“If you get up, I’ll make wildberry crepes.”

One eye emerges from the pillow, peering up at him warily. “...’nd bacon?”

“Sure,” he laughs, “bacon too.”

Zelda hums, making a show of thinking. After a minute, she rolls over and sits up, wiping the sleep out of her eyes. “You drive a hard bargain, Hero, but I will accept.”

He moves swiftly over her and out of the bed. He bows low as he backs toward the stairs. “Only the best for Her Majesty!”

(He catches the pillow she throws at him before it can make contact, and laughs when his throw lands on her head)

The crepes are plated, and the bacon just finishes when she emerges, still clad in her nightgown but hair braided in its usual crown.

“Thank you,” she says, taking the plate from him, “It smells amazing.”

Link smiles, sitting across from her with his own, much fuller plate. “Your hair looks really nice today. I mean, it does everyday, but especially today.”

“Truth be told, I’m still getting used to it. It’s harder to braid, which is annoying, but I do enjoy not spending as long bruising it. And I can do this!”

She shakes her head, twisting it around so that the ends sway out to the side. The curled strands settle on her neck as she stills, and the motion causes her to giggle. Link pushes his lips together to keep from laughing at her child-like amusement when she runs her fingers through the short strands.

(He remembers the terror he’d felt when he’d walked in on her, hair completely ragged, kitchen knife a few paces away. He’d thought she’d been attacked, at first, until her glassy eyes had looked up at him, fiercely determined.

“The world has changed,” she whispered desperately, “and I need to change with it. I can’t...I can’t be...”

Wordlessly, he’d found his pair of scissors and fixed the botched cut as best he could. The visible relaxation he saw in her now was worth the fright.)

...

Farore’s courage had gotten him this far, but it would have been better to have been the Hero of Patience.

Link’s never really been great at waiting—not when it’s something this exciting. Waiting for Monsters to fall asleep so as to better ambush them was not the same as refraining from giving Zelda hints about the scavenger hunt he’d created.

She’d been absolutely elated when he’d given her his private journal, under the ruse of making things equal between them.

“I read yours,” he’d shrugged, looking away so that she didn’t see the energy in his eyes, “so now you can read mine.”

She’d cackled—a noise he didn’t even know she could make—and ran up to the bedroom to read it.

Ten excruciating minutes passed before he hears a gasp, the scrape of wood on wood, and the heavy sound of footsteps stomping down the stairs. He looks up from the book he was not actually reading just as she shoves the open journal into his face.

“What,” she cries, “is  _ this _ ?!”

Squinting, he leans back to see what she’s talking about, feigning ignorance. The paper is normal, but the words have been transformed into lines that slither like worms around the page. Although he’s seen it before, Link’s impressed by Purah’s work.

“That,” he replies in the flattest voice he can muster, “is the journal I gave you ten minutes ago.”

“No! I was reading in the section of letters, which were very sweet by the way, and then I turned to read more and it’s this! What did you do?!”

“I didn’t do anything?”

If looks could kill, he wouldn’t even make it to the Shrine of Resurrection.

“But, uh...it looks kind of like the Slate did, before Purah restored all of the functions? Maybe something like that happened?”

Zelda rolls her eyes at him, closing the journal and placing a hand on her hip. “That’s not how books work, Link.”

He chokes on a laugh and tries to keep composed as she frowns. “Isn’t it?”

“What are you planning?” she probed, pointing the book at him accusingly.

“...You’re really pretty when you’re annoyed.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Point taken,” he takes a calming breath and gets to his feet, “well, I don’t know how to fix it, so unless you have any better ideas I think we should pay Purah a visit.”

Suspicious green eyes narrowed at him, unaffected by his innocent expression. Several tense seconds passed before Zelda tucked the book under her arm and grabbed her shawl from its place by the door. Link released his breath, mumbled a quick prayer for blessing, and grabbed his own cloak.

“If this is some kind of weird prank—”

“I think you’re mistaken,” he teases, opening the door for her, “I have never once pulled a prank, that was always you.”

“Making this the perfect time for retribution!”

“Let’s just go see Purah, shall we?”

...

“Zelly-Jelly! What a surprise! How’s your research been going, has your garden produced any hybrids yet? Are they tasty? Have they cross-pollinated or—”

Link starts to tune out, as he often does when the two scientists begin to talk. Their garden had begun to sprout some...interesting variation on the ‘experiment’ side, but he’s not really interested in the specifics unless Zelda is explaining them. He’s walking over to Symin to say hello when Zelda’s arm flings out and grabs the back of his tunic.

“Actually,” she yanks him backwards so that they’re side-by-side, “I’ll have to show you my research notes another time. We’re here for a different reason.”

“Oh?” Purah clamours onto her stool, swinging her legs with excitement, “What’s that?”

“ _ Someone _ thinks that his journal is experiencing the same problems as the Sheikah Slate did before it was restored.”

Purah blinks several times, then turns her teasing gaze to Link. “That’s not how books work, Linky.”

He’s genuinely impressed with the Sheikah’s acting ability. Even he’s beginning to doubt if she knows what’s going on, despite the ‘problem’ being of her own design.

“That’s what I told him!” Zelda exclaimed, “But he insisted that we see you anyways!”

“Well, that’s boys for ya, never want to do any work themselves.”

“I literally saved Hyrule earlier this year!”

“Hmm...a fair point. Well, I suppose I could take a look...for a fee...”

Twin Hylian glares fall on the Sheikah not-child.

“...alright fine, but only because  _ you, _ Zelly-Jelly, are the most passionate research assistant I ever had and I’m incredibly happy to have you back. Symin is absolutely wonderful of course, but he’s not as much fun.”

Symin chuckles as he walks over. “Well, someone has to make sure the Lab is still standing.”

“And you do it excellently,” Zelda proclaims diplomatically, handing the journal to Purah.

“Yes yes, he’s very responsibl—oh! Well, this is odd!”

“It does look like the broken Slate, but how is that possible?” Symin gasps over Purah’s shoulder.

“It looks like some kind of technological lock, but that’s waaaaay out of Linky’s ability to create.”

Link scowls at the shorter scientist, crossing his arms in a huff. He’s not surprised that Purah is taking the opportunity to tease him, and she’s also correct, but he needs to pretend so as to not seem suspicious.

He maybe over-does it, because Zelda pats him sympathetically on the shoulder. “Well, maybe it was some kind of accident—perhaps it got caught in the Stasis rune? Regardless, are you able to fix it Purah?”

“Hmm...” Purah taps her chin dramatically, “That’s an interesting theory Zelly-Jelly. This is almost certainly Sheikah technology, so I can have it fixed in a Snap! But I’ll need...”

Symin passes a notepad and pencil over her shoulder, and Purah wastes no time in scribbling down the list he’d given her yesterday. She even pauses to mumble to herself, which Link thinks is pushing it.

(He’s also annoyed, because her writing is shockingly beautiful. The body of a child, over 100 years old and yet she writes like a royal scribe? Absolutely unfair.)

“I’ll need these items,” she explains, handing the list to Zelda, “and they should all be in the Compendium. Linky can show you how to use the search function, so it shouldn’t take you more than a few hours. When you gather them, meet me at my sister’s house.”

Zelda scans the list, tilting her head at Purah’s final words. “In Kakariko? Why wouldn’t you be here?”

“My fuddy-duddy baby sister misses me, so she’s making me come have dinner with her. Knowing Impa, it’ll take all evening. Then I have to sneak back here after dark, ugh. The things you do for family...”

Link smiles as Zelda turns to him, green eyes twinkling with excitement and fingers drumming an energetic rhythm on the notepad. Her eagerness takes his breath away and he allows himself to lean into the thrill. She grabs his hand and jogs out the door, pulling him along.

He’d definitely made the right choice.

* * *

It’s barely past noon, and they’re already almost halfway done.

They’re sitting over a cooking pot, Zelda carefully stirring the bubbling liquid. Across from her, Link is really only half paying attention to the lotus seeds he’s crushing, choosing instead to study the girl in front of him. She’s laser-focused on her motions, the tip of her tongue is poking out from behind her teeth as she counts the rotations of the ladle. He’s imagining the look on her face in a few hours, when they “unlock” the journal and he gets to surprise her.

“Paste?” she calls, extending her open hand towards him. He puts the small bowl of frog-paste on her palm, and stifles a gag when she uses her finger to scrape it in. He makes note of the spot of grass she cleans her hand off on so that he doesn’t accidentally sit in it.

(He’s not normally squeamish, but...  _ crushed frog guts _ )

“Seeds?”

“One moment...” Link shuffles carefully around the fire, doing his best to keep the jar lid he’d been using to crush the seeds level. He’s just trying to figure out how to make the handoff when she looks up at where he used to be, blinks, and finds him beside her.

“It’s most likely easiest for you to put them in. Scrape them in slowly—don’t dump them!—yes, that should get them to dissolve most efficiently.”

“Zel? You know I’ve made this before, and it’s really not all this—”

“Shh!!”

She turns the spoon once, twice, three times clockwise. Another two times counterclockwise. Handing Link the spoon, she finds the jar of crushed monster-horns and sprinkles a pinch evenly over the liquid. Link stirs, rolling his eyes at her over-intensity, and watches as the mixture turns from a murky brown to a gorgeous sky blue.

“Okay...stop!” Zelda places her hand over his, gently pulling it out of the pot, “We just need to kill the fire and let it cool, store it for Purah, and then we can go and find the rest of the list! We still need a feather, an ancient core...anything else?”

He’s about to reply when his stomach grumbles. He smiles sheepishly as Zelda pushes her lips together, blinking rapidly to keep from laughing.

“...And maybe lunch.”

They sit underneath a nearby tree to eat, Zelda munching on her meat pie and examining the bottled elixir.

“You know,” he begins between mouthfuls, “you were right.”

“Oh?”

“Before, you said that the frog would...how’d you put it?”

Zelda puts the jar aside and smiles up at him, “I believe I said, ‘augment certain abilities’, and then the frog jumped into your mouth.” She laughs lightly, “I’ve never seen you jump so fast, or spit something out...ever!”

“Well,” Link cries with a fake affront, “It was a  _ live frog! _ ”

“I have  _ literally _ seen you eat rocks, bugs, and octorok. You didn’t spit any of those out!”

“Octorok?!”

“...You,” she squints, closing one eye, “don’t remember that?”

He shakes his head, and Zelda leans her body against his. She rests her head onto his shoulder and looks up at the lazy clouds.

“We were...I think I was almost 15, so you would have been about 17. We went to this adorable little town called Lurelin. It’s on the coast, far south in the Faron Province.”

Hazy memories start to come back, but he’s too focused on her voice to pay too much attention inwards.

“The locals had this party, to celebrate hosting “The Princess”. I always hated that, the way people would go entirely out of their way as though I was something special, but the people of Lurelin were very...”

“Nonchalant?” he supplies.

“Precisely.”

“I ended up there by accident, looking for a memory. It’s a very relaxed place.”

“Huh.” Zelda huffs, “I guess some things don’t change...”

They share a moment of silence before she continues. “Well, they held the party outside—you must have been 17 because I remember thinking about how warm it was for Autumn—and they had this huge table of food. You were basically drooling,” her elbow finds his ribs playfully, “and they asked if we wanted to try their specialty.”

“And it was...”

“It was an Octorok! They brought out this platter, like the kind you’d present a boar on, and it just had this huge Octorok!”

“...What kind of Octorok was it?”

“I don’t know?!” Zelda explodes, flinging her hands out in front of her as she sits up, “I don’t remember, because I wasn’t listening because I was too freaked out about  _ eating an Octorok!” _

Link laughs at her outburst, picking some of the flung meat and pastry off of his tunic. “What did it taste like?”

“It, um...” the princess hums, tapping the ground in front of her quickly, “I... oh! I didn’t have it!”

“What?!”

“Yeah, I didn’t have it because it had some kind of alcoholic glaze? Or sauce? Or something? They asked if I wanted any extra, and when I told them I wasn’t of age they—”

“They asked if your father would be okay with it, and then you didn’t know, so you asked me, and I said, ‘probably not’...right?”

“You remember!” she claps.

“Not really,” he replies with a shrug, “I just remember feeling absolute horror of the idea that you’d get drunk and I’d have to explain it to The King.”

Zelda laughs, hard. “That...would have...oh Hylia...”

He joins in then, her laughter contagious. “But wait, you said that I had some?”

Wiping tears from her eyes, Zelda settles back onto his shoulder. “Mhm! They asked you if you wanted any, and you were so excited! You couldn’t choose between the tentacles and the head, so you had a bit of both.”

“Really?”

“Yes! It was disgusting! Plus, one of the children told you that sprinkling salt on it would make the tentacle wiggle, and you chose to try it while it was  _ in your mouth! _ ”

“...and did it?”

“Did it what?”

“Did it wiggle?”

“It Did! It was awful!”

The hazy memory starts to clear: Zelda’s strained but polite facial expression, an ecstatic little girl running to gather her friends and the roaring laughter of the adults around them.

“You know,” he says, resting his head on top of hers, “I used to have this top-secret goal to try every single dish? I wanted to at least try every single recipe from every culture.”

“...I didn’t know that.” Zelda breathes, tensing slightly beneath him. Link notices but stays silent. He knows that these kinds of conversations are hard for her (they’re not always fun for him either), and trusts that if it’s important, she’ll share it.

It takes her a moment, but she does open up.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Link makes a strangled noise in his throat. “Pardon?”

“I don’t have to read what’s locked behind that weird thing. It's your journal, and your secrets. You don’t have to share—I won’t be upset.”

That’s when it hits him: maybe he could have planned this better.

It’s not that it wasn’t a good idea, because he’s still certain of his choice. Zelda’s clearly enjoying herself—she’s more animated now on this quest then she’s been all year! There’s a fire in her eyes, a fierce determination as she follows the beeping of the slate, and her whole body lights up with joy every time she finds another item.

No, the idea and execution aren’t the problem. The Problem is that he underestimated her. He’d forgotten that underneath her drive for knowledge, her mischievous attitude and her love of puzzle-solving, Zelda was a highly empathetic and compassionate person. Link had never even considered that it would be an “invasion of privacy”, but it shouldn’t have surprised him that it had crossed her mind.

“I know that we live together, and I’m thankful that we’re still close,” she continues, words tumbling over each other, “but you’re allowed to have your own life and thoughts that don’t include me! And I know it’s complicated since you’ve pretty much done nothing but try to save me and everyone was—”

“Zelda,” he interrupts, shifting them around so that they’re face to face, “I...”

His emotions swell, cresting within him like a wave and drowning his voice.

“I want you to read it,” he continues with his hands, “because...because the last little bit I wrote for you. It’s my last letter to you.”

“...oh.”

A tense moment passes, Zelda fidgeting with the fallen leaves around them. Link waits patiently, until she speaks again.

“You’re sure?” she whispers.

He puts on his most reassuring smile. “I’m positive.”

She looks up at him, flashing her own small smile, and gets to her feet. “In that case, we’ve had enough of a break! There’s only items left to find, and I aim to be reading that journal before the sun sets!”

Link chuckles and accepts her offered hand.

Sunset will be perfect.

* * *

He thinks it's adorably frightening, the mixture of vexation and surprise on her face.

“What do you mean ‘you forgot to mention it?!’”

Link and Impa share a smug smile as Zelda fumes. He doesn’t envy Purah at all—he’s been on the receiving end of Zelda’s temper before, and it’s not a fun place to be.

The pint-sized Sheikah stands her ground, sipping her tea calmly. “I mean that I sent you out with the list, and now that you’re here I’m realizing I forgot. What don’t you understand?”

Zelda clenches her fists, crumpling the wad of paper, and tilts her head as far back as she can. Link hears her heavy inhale, sees her fingers extend slowly as she counts to ten, and watches as her posture relaxes on the exhale. He can tell that she’s still ready to pounce, can practically feel the energy rumbling underneath her forced calm exterior. Regally, she stalks towards the sisters and picks up the vial Purah had placed next to her teacup.

“Purah,” she hisses, holding the tiny glass between her fingers, “where am I supposed to find enough Silent Princess pollen to fill this entire thing?!”

Link clears his throat, and Zelda turns to him gracefully. Her eyes are wild, frustrated tears just beginning to form. “I know a place, actually.”

“...You know a place,” she clarifies slowly, “where we can find several specimens of a near-extinct flower. Enough flowers that there will be several in bloom. And enough that we can take the pollen without endangering the species further?”

“Yeah. It’s just outside of town, the opposite way to where we came in.”

“Additionally,” Impa supplies, “the Silent Princess isn’t nearly as endangered anymore.”

Zelda takes another sharp inhale, nearly dropping the vial in shock. “What?”

“It seems that the Princess has been more than able to thrive in this wilder world.” Impa takes a sip of her tea, a knowing sparkle in her wise eyes, “It’s not overly popular, but it is not nearly so rare as it once was.”

The Hylian girl is speechless for several seconds. Link sees her eyes dart rapidly, eyebrows and mouth twitching as she absorbs the information. A trembling hand reaches out, and he grabs it gently.

“...Where did you say this ‘place’ was, Link?”

“C’mon, it’s not far.”

...

He’s lucky that there are all of these flowers, or else what he’s about to do would earn him a swift kick in the shin.

Zelda is transfixed on the field before her, hundreds of blue and white petals decorating the hills.

“How....how did this...”

“Well,” Link answers, “Impa and Purah came together not long after...you-know-what and planted a couple of seeds. Purah’s theory is that less people are picking them for their “true love”, and Impa’s is that it has to do with Kakariko’s proximity to the Fairy-Fountain.”

She nods, squeezing his hand. Link plucks a tall flower gently, and places it behind her ear. Zelda blinks and looks up at him, bringing her free hand up to the bloom.

“While I think those are all possible, and likely,” he continues softly, “would you like to hear my theory?”

One blonde eyebrow quirks up, “You have a theory?”

“You must be rubbing off on me.”

“Hmm, for the better I’d think!”

“Absolutely. Now do you want to hear it or...”

Her laughter causes hundreds of thunderwing butterflies to take off in his stomach. “Oh, very much!”

“My theory is that you did it.”

Her second eyebrow joins the first in her hairline.

“I’m serious! The Blood-Moons, they always brought back the produce and flowers—and I know that was your doing. And more than any other living thing, the Silent Princess...it represents you.

“You brought back something from the brink of extinction, just like how you’re...here. You’re here, surviving and healing... and you’re going to thrive in this new world, just like these little guys are.”

Green eyes blink rapidly for all of one second before she’s barrelling into him, burying her face in his shoulder and grasping his tunic tightly.

“Thank you,” she mumbles into his body.

After a moment, she pulls mostly away, holding his forearms to keep contact. Her smile is watery, but full of joy.

(Now or Never)

“Hey, can I tell you something?”

“Of course, anything.

Link leads her to a clearing in the field and sits her down, removing his sword and placing it beside them on the grass. “You have to promise not to be mad...” he signs, biting his lip and throwing puppy eyes her way.

“Oh my...is it something serious?” Zelda leans closer, eyebrows drawn, and lips pursed. “Is something wrong?”

“Well no but promise you won’t be mad first.”

She grabs his hands and squeezes them gently. Her emerald eyes bore into his, staring intently without blinking. He has to resist the urge to smile as he waits for her to remember that she can’t project her thoughts anymore.

(She doesn’t forget often, and normally he finds it adorable. But he needs to keep up the charade a little longer...)

“I’ll take that as a yes?” he asks, taking his hands back.

Zelda blushes and nods. “I promise I won’t be upset, no matter what you tell me.”

Link takes a deep breath, looking down at the grass beneath him, and then out towards the horizon.

The sun is beginning to set.

Slowly and without looking at the concerned green eyes across from him, Link reaches over and snags the Slate off of Zelda’s hip. With practiced motions, he summons his journal and the items they’d spent the afternoon collecting.

“I can fix the journal. I’ve been able to do it this whole time.”

Zelda squints at him.

Her lips straighten into a flat line.

He holds his breath and pulls up the grass, piling it higher and higher.

For an eternity, she just...looks at him.

“...Zel?”

“I KNEW IT!”

Zelda leaps to her feet, surprising Link enough that he falls backwards.

“I knew something suspicious was going on! There’s no conceivable way that all of these items could form into one thing that would fix the book! And having to get everything fresh instead of using the stores in the Slate... plus, Purah never forgets something when it comes to research!”

He props himself up on his elbow and chuckles, watching as she paces. He’s still smiling when she turns to him, fists on her hips, and glares playfully down.

“What in Nayru’s name is the meaning of all this then, Mr. ‘I don’t play pranks’?”

“I have a perfectly good explanation,” he laughs, moving in front of the items and patting the spot next to him, “and it’s not a prank.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, rolling her eyes as she sits, “then what is it?”

“I’ll show you.”

Wrapping his arms around her, he sets the Slate compass to find his journal. The leather-bound book pulses a soft blue, and chimes brightly. Link flips through it until he finds the page he’s looking for.

Clearing his throat, he begins to read aloud.

“ _ My Zelda, _

__

_ If you’re reading this, it means you’ve reached the end of the hunt and also haven’t murdered me for tricking you, thank Hylia.” _ (she punches him playfully) “ _ I guess you could also have just figured it out, since you're certainly smart enough, but hopefully you didn’t. Either way, you’re probably wondering what this is all about.... I’m going to explain this assuming that everything went according to plan, so if it didn’t...just don’t read any further. _

__

_ “You remember the scavenger hunt you sent me on for my memories? Well I wanted to return the favour—with a bit of a twist. Each of the items we found today represents a memory we made together 100 years ago. _

__

_ “The feather is a reminder of a conversation we had, where you told me why I was Chosen. You were the first person to tell me it was more than just the sword that made me a hero. That was when I knew that we were partners.” _

__

His voice wavers, shaking slightly. Zelda rests her head on his shoulder gently and reaches for the feather. He appreciates that she’s willing to listen instead of reading ahead, recognizing the intentional distraction as silent encouragement to take his time.

With a deep breath, he continues.

“ _ The ancient core is from your 16th birthday. I gave you one as a present, sneaking it to you instead of listening to your father’s orders. It wasn’t the first time I’d broken the rules for you, believe it or not, but that was when I realized that I would gladly fight for you, no matter the power of whatever enemy we faced.” _

“That was also our first kiss,” she interrupts, leaning back to look at him mischievously.

“A wonderful addition,” he responds, kissing her forehead quickly, “but hush—I’m not done.”

Rolling her eyes, she settles back down.

“ _ I’d always been ready to fight for Hyrule, for the Crown and the People, but that night I realized how personal it had become. I wasn’t just pledged to my Kingdom and its Princess: but absolutely devoted to you. _

__

_ “The frog needs no explanation—I’m certain you remember that just as well as I do. Honestly, I just wanted to prove that you were right. And you were, although I don’t think the frog has any abilities pre-cooking... _

__

_ “But that night, when we talked about our mothers? That was when I realized how comfortable I was with you. That’s when you became my best friend. Crying under the stars will do that. _

__

_ “The last item is the Silent Princess. And this...this isn’t a memory we share.” _

Link pulls his necklace from its place under his tunic.

“ _ When I woke up, I didn’t know who I was. But I had this thing on, and I knew that it was connected to you. I didn’t remember who you were, or why it was important, but this little pendant brought me peace anyway. It comforted me and reminded me that someone thought I was special enough to deserve something so unique. When I found out what it was, and what it meant... knowing you loved me kept me going even when I wanted to quit. _

__

_ “Even before I knew you, I knew I loved you. When I saw you again for the first time, I realized I still do.” _

__

Shifting away from Zelda, Link removes a small box from the pouch on his belt. She tilts her head at him in confusion but stays silent. He closes the journal, accidentally using more force than necessary and cringing at the loud thump of the cover smacking the pages.

“When we met,” he voices, “it was to announce our betrothal. Back then, we didn’t have a choice. 100 years ago, we were ‘Princess Zelda and Sir Link: Chosen by the Goddesses’. The weight of the world was on our shoulders, our entire fate mapped out.

“Princess Zelda and Sir Link...they’ll always be with us, but they belong to a time that doesn’t exist anymore. We may not have had a choice to be brought together, but we get to choose what we do now.”

Shaking fingers manage to open the box, and he pulls out the ring. The dark leather braid sits between two golden bands, a small golden gem resting on top. Intricate swirls dance around the smooth surface of the stone, the setting sun triggering the mellow glow of the specs dotting the surface of the cord.

From the back of his mind, the Master Sword pulses with joy and encouragement. Courage fills him, and it's with an easy smile that he holds the Band out to her.

“I choose to stand by you, at your side, no matter what life throws at us. I would choose to go through everything all over again, all of the pain and fear and loneliness, if it meant that I was able to be with you. With my choices, no matter what, I choose to be with you, if you’ll have me. What...what do you choose?”

She’s speechless, tears pouring freely down her cheeks and hands covering her mouth.

It can’t have been more than a few seconds, but his heart leaps to his throat and his hands start to shake. The silence is nerve wracking, and Link feels frozen in time.

A sob-like laugh escapes past Zelda’s fingers, and she reaches past his outstretched hand, to his shoulders. He has a fleeting vision of rejection, but the sincere smile puts him at ease.

“I choose,” she breathes, “to kiss you.”

They walk back to Kakariko, red faced and beaming. Impa cackles and Purah squeals when Zelda shows them her hand, and Link thinks he’s never been happier.

He’s proven wrong when he kisses her in front of their friends and found-family, publicly declaring his devotion.

There’s a melody in his spirit that changes from a solo to a duet, and Link intends to follow the notes wherever they lead.

(Provided His Wife is by his side.)


	7. Epilogue

She’s 25 when the lessons start.

Hyrule is a proper Kingdom, she’s a proper Queen, and despite the less than fortunate path that led them here, Zelda wouldn’t have it any other way.

They’d begun not long after the wedding, her mind buzzing with ideas. Link, ever supportive, had listened to her ranting while keeping her grounded in the possible. One year, four months and seventeen days after Ganon’s defeat (she counted), the duo began their second journey around Hyrule. They explained their ideas and plans and assured the leaders of each surviving settlement that they would take their concerns and questions seriously should they choose to join. Link’s travels had given him connections everywhere—his kind deeds and helpful nature giving more authority to his words than the legendary sword strapped to his back.

(“ _Do you think,” she’d asked him, “that we should put the sword back?”_

_He hadn’t responded right away, tilting his head to listen to the voice inside the blade. That she could no longer hear the voice was something she was able to accept sooner than she’d expected._

_“She says,” Link replied, “that we don’t need to. The next hero won't be needed for a long time, and...” he paused, smiling, “and she wants to stay with us.”_ )

The support was overwhelming. Zelda had hoped for it, certainly, but expected that there would be resistance. But no one doubted that she was the returned Princess, just as they had trusted Link had slain the Calamity. She expected to be bombarded with accusations at every stable, town and settlement: people waiting gleefully to tell her what a failure she was, and how she’d ruined their lives. Instead, she was greeted with warm meals, gentle hugs and heartfelt thanks. By far the biggest surprise was the discovery of the sections of treasuries dedicated to “The Return of the Crown” in almost every surviving town and village. Even the stables set aside a collection of rupees.

“It’s simple,” Reede confessed with a shrug, “it was to keep our morale up, ya know? Like putting rupees aside for a rainy day. We’d take a collection with the hope that we’d be able to give it away and rebuild the kingdom of our grandparents.”

The Sheikah, Zora and Gerudo had similar stories—the former keeping a knowledge of past glory and the latter from a feeling of kinship with the Hylian Princess.

When the Rito and Goron peoples heard of her restoration goal, they were quick to offer whatever help they could. The Goron almost immediately rolled to Hyrule Field, ready to begin demolishing the ruins and leftover Guardian husks. They hadn’t wanted to wait—a people of action instead of plans. Link managed to convince them, which was a feat worthy of Din herself. The Rito were less impulsive and needed more negotiation but were equally as eager to resume the Mail System and assist in rebuilding.

Roughly three years from the Calamity's defeat (she was too busy to count) saw the christening of New Castle Town, and another year saw a new, completely different Castle to go with it.

( _“I... I can’t Link,” Zelda sobbed, kneeling in the ruins of her old home, “I can’t be here. I was trapped here long before I sealed Ganon, and I... I can’t live here again.”_

_“Then don’t,” he soothed, rubbing calming circles on her back, “this place...we don’t need it. Tear it down, start something new.”_

_“But—”_

_“But nothing. No one will miss this—it’s been a symbol of ruin and fear for generations. This isn’t a memory we need to carry, and no one will be disappointed to let it go. We could govern from Hateno if we wanted!”_

_“Tempting,” she hummed, “but I think...I’d like to keep that place separate. I... I think it’d be nice to have a safe place to go when all... this gets too much.”_

_“Agreed.”_ )

The new Kingdom of Hyrule was a totally different breed than its predecessor. In the century-long absence of a monarchy, the people had learned to lead themselves. Neither Link or Zelda had any desire to take that freedom away from the people and rule in the same way her ancestors did, yet they both knew that some unifying entity was needed.

Paya was the one to offer a feasible solution. The timid leader-to-be suggested a council, each region of Hyrule would be represented, and the representative could be someone chosen by those living in the area. The King and Queen would be responsible for protection, infrastructure and worship—seeing as how the royal line was connected to Hylia. It was similar to the old style, except instead of the councillors being born into the position, they would be appointed, and they would meet monthly instead of ‘whenever there’s a problem too big to ignore’.

The system was heartily approved by all, tweaked as problems arose and adapted as needed. Link started the New Guard, happily teaching any who volunteered how to defend themselves and their loved ones. When some of the younger children came of age and wanted to join, he paired them off with a warrior he trusted—no child would be sent into battle without adequate training and aid.

(“Never again Zel. Never again.”)

She discovered she was pregnant just after construction began on their new home.

Zelda had known immediately that they'd have a girl—the firstborn of Hylia’s blood was always a girl. Link had been so excited he’d cried, but Zelda...

She’d been terrified—her memories of her mother so few and far between that she was uncertain of her own ability. Her clearest memories had been of caring for the dying queen and hiding her grief from her father, neither of which was helpful. Link had patiently consoled her, admitting his own fears that he wasn’t yet ‘whole’ or healed enough to be a father. He’d assured her that the most important thing was that they love their new addition with their whole being, and she’d reminded him that even at his most ‘broken’, he’d been more than enough. Their collective fear had transitioned into nervous excitement and been mostly covered by their joy.

Their happiness hadn’t stopped them from arguing about the name for months. Zelda was determined to name their daughter Aryll, while Link wanted to call her ‘Zelda’.

“But why?” the current Zelda demanded, “You’ve been so open to changing the traditions, why keep this one?!”

“Because” Link signed, expression hard, “this one is good.”

“It’s confusing!”

“We can work around the confusion, every generation before us did.”

“And it’s so...antiquated. What happened to making a ‘brand new world’?”

“There’s no rule that we have to throw out everything from the past either!”

“But what about your sister?!”

“What _about_ my sister?!”

It was hard to resist stomping her foot. “I’m trying to keep her memory alive!”

“I don’t want our child growing up in the shadow of someone long dead; she doesn’t deserve to have to carry that burden!” Link’s face drained of all emotion, his mask of neutrality falling into place. It made her blood boil.

“We promised _your sister_ that she’d be a part of our family, or did you forget?!”

The words seemed to echo for a moment, before Link stormed off, red-faced and trembling. Zelda was immediately flooded with shame and burst into guilty tears as soon as she was alone. When her husband came home a few hours later, trembling and covered in dirt, she apologized so quickly that she worried he hadn’t been able to understand.

“It’s okay, Zel—”

“No, it’s not! It’s not okay, I shouldn't have said something so horrible.”

He smiled softly, pulling her into a hug. “Well, I forgive you. But I don’t want to continue this right now. Can we just eat dinner, go to bed and deal with it later?”

“Sounds perfect.”

In the end, they’d chosen a compromise.

Tetra was born on the third last day of the fourth year, during a rainstorm in Hateno. She was named for the princess in her aunt’s favourite of the Hero’s Legends, effectively keeping both the tradition and Aryll’s memory alive.

When Tetra was nearly a year old, they discovered she was deaf, and HSL became the dominant language of their household. It was quickly apparent as she grew that Tetra inherited her mother’s curiosity and their father's tenacity, to the dual horror and delight of her parents.

The kingdom grew much slower than their vivacious daughter, and juggling the restoration with motherhood was a challenge that Zelda often found overpowering. She was determined to succeed in both, and that drive coupled with knowing she had the full support of the people she loved enabled her to persevere.

The official Coronation was held in the sixth year, and she was more thankful than ever to have Link by her side. Being Queen was a heavy burden, and although the first year of her Rule passed by fraught with problems, Hyrule still stood at the end of it.

Zelda thinks that her father would be proud.

...

She’s just writing the last ingredients down when she feels a hand on her knee. Zelda smiles at her daughter, holding up a finger as she double-checks what she’s written is correct. When she’s sure that the dual-effect elixir recipe is fool-proof, Zelda closes her journal and turns to the seven-year-old beside her.

“Are you ready now, Mama?” Tetra asks, chewing her lip and doing her best to look as endearing as possible, “You said today we could start.”

“That’s today?” Zelda responds, faking surprise, “Are you sure?”

“Yes! I’m sure because I remember you told me yesterday that—”

Zelda interrupts by placing a soft kiss on her daughter's forehead. “I’m just teasing you, Little Bird.”

Tetra scrunches up her face, looking so much like her father that Zelda has to hold in a laugh. “Papa is better at teasing; you should leave it to him.”

The woman does laugh at that, standing and gesturing towards the door. “Well, let's go see if your Papa has prepared us a snack, and then we’ll go down, okay?”

Large green eyes widen, sparkling at the mention of food and adventure. (“You know, Link, it seems that our daughter has my spirit, and your stomach!”) Zelda is practically dragged to the back doors, where Link is waiting with a basket and a smile. He places the basket down and scoops Tetra into his arms, causing her to roar with laughter. Zelda retrieves the basket from the floor and kisses her husband.

“You checked the water?”

“An hour ago,” Link nods, placing Tetra down to respond more easily, “it’s still chilly, but not bad. I packed some spicy rice balls, so that should help.”

“Can you make honeyed tea when we’re done, Papa? And help me with my reading too?”

“‘Course I can, but only if your Mama doesn’t hog all the good books!”

Zelda laughs with her family, swatting Link playfully. She kisses him again and leads their daughter to the prayer-pool outside. The first lesson she intends to teach is how to find and focus on the love around and within her.

As Tetra reads to them after, hands fluttering through the legend of the Hero of Sky, Zelda relaxes into the feeling of warmth and safety around her.

The tapestry that tells her story is filled with knots, tangles and tears, but the result is more fulfilling than she’d ever imagined.

She wouldn’t change a thing.

###  **END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! This started out as an idea that I didn't think would get very far, and then the story just...decided to tell itself! 
> 
> I hope that you, link Link and Zelda, are able to flourish in no matter what you've gone through.
> 
> -Adena


End file.
